by Diana Layne
Yet Ben had other ideas. His fingers traced her body, his lips followed. She tried to stay patient, tried to enjoy the sensation but her need for release bordered on pain. She tugged on his hair just as his lips landed between her legs. Her body convulsed. “No,” she gasped.
He untangled her hands from his hair, held them firmly by her side. She twisted away. He followed, continued his relentless assault with his mouth until he took her high enough to plunge over the edge.
“No,” she complained, the sweet tension fading away.
“No?” he repeated, kissing his way back up her body. “You’re objecting to an orgasm?”
“Not like that.”
“There’s more to come.” He paused, she could see his smile, his white teeth glittering in the dim light. “Pun intended.”
“Ha. Ha. So not amusing.” He planned to drag this out, prolong the intimacy, and damn, that was the problem. She wanted it over and done with. He reached beside the bed, and she realized he’d brought the condoms with him.
“You don’t need one, you know. After I was shot…I can’t… get pregnant.”
He absorbed what she said. “You were gut shot.”
“Yeah, they took everything out, couldn’t save it.”
“I’m sorry.”
She didn’t want pity. “Of course there’s STD’s, so maybe a condom’s a good idea."
“You have an STD?”
She could see the whites of his eyes. Feeling more relaxed, not so frantic, she decided to tease him, pay him back for forcing intimacy on her. “That’s probably something you should’ve asked before . . . um, before you did what you did, don’t you think?”
He frowned, and then somehow seemed to catch on she was teasing, which was as disconcerting—and as intimate as what’d he’d done with his mouth. His smile had a mock evil glint promising pay back. “I have a death wish, anyway, remember? Sex or drinking, what’s the difference?” He dangled the condom package in front of her. “What about you? Do you have a death wish?”
“You have an STD?" This was such a bizarre conversation, lying here naked with a virtual stranger. Only he didn’t feel like a stranger. In some way being here felt too familiar. Alarming. But nothing to be alarmed about, this wasn’t a relationship. Just sex.
“No STD here. But something you should ask, don’t you think?” He echoed her words.
“Hey, you’re the one who climbed into my bed.”
“True. Trust me, or not.”
“Put that way, definitely not. Besides, there’s your wife.”
“What?”
In spite of the hard edge to his voice, she plunged on. “You said she was raped, got pregnant, those soldiers might’ve had–”
“I never slept with her.”
“Okay then.” She sensed pain, understood the edge in his voice, and felt the need to comfort him again, definitely not a good sign. She pulled the condom out of his hand, tossed it on the floor. Get back to the sex, not the feelings. “Looks like you wasted your money after all.”
She kissed him, even though the conversation and the orgasm had dampened remaining desire. She didn’t want to stop though; it would be unfair to leave him unfulfilled. And Ben seemed determined and competent enough to get her back to the point of willing and ready again.
“It was worth it,” he whispered in her ear.
“What?”
“Wasting my money.”
She smiled, but lost the ability to form coherent thought as her body clamored again. Ben poised over her, his erection probing. She opened her legs, grabbed his hard muscled butt and urged him to enter.
Though she was relaxed from the first orgasm, and aroused again, he was well endowed and her body resisted. She writhed in frustration.
“Easy,” Ben soothed. “Remember to breathe.”
She realized she was holding her breath. She breathed in deeply, felt her body relax. Then he was kissing her and everything started working right again.
The fullness, the sensations, the build up. Familiar and yet different. Arousing. The combination twisted together and exploded in another release as she met Ben’s thrusts, urged him on until he joined her.
Lying sated and relaxed once more, MJ relished feeling like a desirable woman. Being a mommy was tops, yes, but at times it was nice being wanted and held by someone who didn’t have sticky cookie hands.
There were no men in her small town who even remotely appealed to her. Most of them were just now coming around to the idea of a woman mechanic, as proved by Jenkins, the cop, coming onto her. Definitely wouldn’t go there. And she doubted any of the men in town, even cop boy, could accept or conceive of what she’d used to do for a living.
Now, Ben, he understood her job and her pain. Because he’d lived both. Just like Niko—her heart clenched. Niko might be lost to her forever. Not that he could ever be hers. His heart belonged to his job, something she’d moved beyond. He’d acted reluctant to join Ed’s business at first, but Niko took to it well, and said in no uncertain terms he wasn’t ready to give up the life. And she’d never be content sitting home waiting for someone who might not ever come back.
Ben stirred, snuggled deeper against her. An unwanted tenderness welled up in her. She fought it, didn’t want it. No soft, tender emotions for Ben.
He seemed to sense her distress. He raised his head, searched her eyes. “Don’t be laying here comparing me to Keith.”
His bluntness startled her. “No, of course not. I wouldn’t–”
“I would never be a sell out.”
“I never said you would.”
“It’s what you were thinking.”
“No, I–”
“If you’re not thinking it now, you soon will be.”
“Why would I be doing that?"
“You’ll be looking for a way not to do this again.”
Oh, scary, how he was so close to right. “That’s an insult to you, don’t you think?”
He smiled. “Good try. But my ego’s not at stake here.”
“What?”
He rolled to his side, took her with him. “Not an insult at all. You liked sex with me, you want it again, but you’re going to be looking for a reason to avoid it."
“You’re a cocky bastard.” Maybe the man was a mind reader. “If I liked it, why would I want to avoid it, Dr. Walker?” See how much he did know.
“Because you don’t want to care, you don’t want to be hurt. Doesn’t take a shrink to know why you’ve isolated yourself in that small hick town.”
She frowned. A man shouldn’t know so much what a woman was thinking. Just wasn’t right. Time to turn the tables, get the focus off of her.
“You’ve isolated yourself as well.”
“Yeah, but I’m not looking for a reason to avoid sex with you again. I enjoyed it, plan on doing it again."
“You think?”
“I know.” He bent his head, placed kisses across the top of her chest.
A deep fluttering started in her chest beneath his lips, spread downward. “So when do you know–”
“Right now.” He moved his lips to her mouth. His penis snuggled against her thighs, grew hard. He turned to where it probed between her legs.
Her stomach jumped. Surprisingly, she was ready and willing. Not to let him know she was too easy, she said, “Demanding, aren’t you?”
“C’mon, you’re impressed.” He slipped inside, the entry much easier this time around.
Oh, to hell with faking indifference. “Yeah, I’m impressed,” she admitted. “Especially with your injured arm. Do you want me to–” get on top she’d planned to say, but he’d already rolled her to her back.
It didn’t take long for her to peak again. And then again as Ben kept up his pace, seeming to want to dig every bit of pleasure out of her before he allowed himself release.
“Yes, most impressive,” she murmured. “And I’m exhausted. Don’t even think of doing this again,” she said.
“I’ll try to wai
t until morning.” He pulled her against him.
“Try? Damn, you’re greedy.”
“Been a while.”
“Why’s that?”
“After I buried Fatima and the baby, I didn’t feel like sex.”
Though his voice was low, the pain and anger still came through. Her heart clenched. “Of course.” She smoothed his hair back, much like she would with Angelina. “I understand that, but why not when you were married?”
Ben sighed. “She was too traumatized from the rape, then the evidence growing in her stomach. She tried, was willing, but no...” He paused as if reliving the experience. “No, I wouldn’t do that to her. I figured we’d have time later.”
Patience and self-control, his story told her. Compassion. Scary attributes for a man lying next to her in bed to have.
Curiosity drove her. “Would you have stayed married when you came back to the states?” She paused running her hand over his head, holding her hand poised while waiting for his answer. Stillness shrouded the room.
At last he said, “I would have given her the option, but yes, if she wanted, I would have stayed married.”
A man who honored his commitments. Could she believe him? Was there a man really that honorable? “I’m sorry for you. Sounds like she was a good fit.”
“A good fit.” He chuckled. “You make her sound like a shoe.”
The urge too strong to ignore, she went back to smoothing his hair. The small action seemed quite comforting to her as much as him. “Well, yeah, how important is a comfortable shoe, especially in this business. Much better than a showy sexy pair of dress shoes.” She remembered the last time she’d worn heels, her last assignment. The first time she saw him, although he’d been a stranger and her feet had been wrapped in makeshift blanket shoes by the time he came on scene.
“You have a point,” he said. “But . . . ” he leaned close, “Unless you want to find out how well we fit—again—you better go to sleep.”
“Again? As in right now?”
“Again,” he said, pushing his hips against her. “Right now.”
His growing erection pressed against her thighs. She moved her hand, drew away. “Whoa. You might be up for it but I’m not.” Her body was too tender. She gave him a peck on the cheek. “Good night.”
He took a deep breath, released it. Then she felt his lips in her hair. He kissed her head. “Good night,” he said softly.
Her eyes grew heavy, more relaxed than she’d been in days. She missed Angelina desperately but she couldn’t deny this respite from real life had been nice.
Muscles heavy, eyes heavy, the last thought she had was no bad dreams for either of them tonight.
Chapter 16
“Wake up.”
MJ was too tired, too sated to want to listen to the voice. If Ben wanted sex again, he could just wait. She snuggled deeper into bed.
“Wake. Up.” The voice hissed in her ear. This time the command was followed with a tug on MJ’s hair.
“Ouch.” MJ slapped at the hand and forced her eyes open.
“Finally.”
That’s when she realized the voice belonged to a woman.
“Tasha.”
“Shh.”
Too late. Ben stirred. “What’s wrong?” he murmured sleepily. “Bad dream?”
“Shit.” Tasha muttered and dashed around the bed to Ben’s side, reaching under her jacket.
“What?” Ben opened his eyes, pushing to sit up.
Tasha pulled out a gun.
MJ’s eyes widened. “No, don’t shoot him.”
Ben stared at her a split second, then shifted his gaze toward Tasha. But she was raising the gun, taking aim.
Time slowed down.
MJ threw herself across Ben to protect him. Ben roughly pushed her back, held her pinned to the bed with his body while he played hero and faced Tasha with her weapon.
MJ shoved at Ben’s back, tried to move him enough to say something. Damn, he was cutting off her air supply shielding her as he was. “No, don’t hurt him,” she managed to gasp. “Don’t shoot.”
Ben’s weight lifted as he lunged after Tasha.
Before MJ could move to help, Ben slumped forward landing face first in the comforter.
For an awful, terrifying moment, she thought Tasha had shot him, but then MJ realized she hadn’t heard a gun report.
She looked up. From the way Tasha was holding the pistol, she’d tapped him out cold with the butt. She twirled her weapon, tucked it back into her shoulder holster.
Tasha, dressed in black designer jeans, a black turtleneck, and sleek black leather jacket held out her hands. “I didn’t shoot him, happy now?”
“Why’d you take him down anyway?” MJ realized she was on the verge of screaming and took a breath to calm herself. The thought of Ben dying right before her eyes left her emotions frayed and fragile.
“I came to see you. He’s in the way.” Tasha pushed at Ben until he landed back on his pillow with a thump.
“Damn it, be careful!” MJ scrambled to free herself from the tangle of covers. She gently checked the back of his head. Found a big knot. But he was breathing evenly and there was no blood; he probably just had a mild concussion.
“He’s fine,” Tasha snapped. “Get dressed and get your stuff, let’s go.”
MJ realized she was as naked as Ben. She blinked. “Go?”
“Hello? I didn’t come for a nice chat. Haven’t you been looking for me? Here I am.”
“But I was waiting on you so I could take you in. I want to go home.” Her words sounded stupid to herself, juvenile even, but her brain felt suddenly sluggish.
“Not happening. Not now. Just a little longer, then you can go home. We have some places to go, people to see first.”
“How original.” MJ found the shirt and pants to her pajamas. Now where were her panties? “I am not traipsing all over the damned country to try to get you to turn yourself in,” she said finally deciding her panties could stay lost. She pulled on her pajama bottoms commando.
“That’s good, because I’m not turning myself in. Not now. Not later. You wearing your p.j.’s to leave?”
“You said you were in a hurry, all my clothes are packed and ready. I’ll change later.” She’d already repacked in anticipation of leaving today. “So you are killing those men?”
“Nasty old men,” Tasha corrected. “Evil men.”
“Why?”
“You didn’t figure it out?”
“Maybe that they all served on the same committee, but I couldn’t see why’d that would make them a target. And all senators are evil, aren’t they?”
“Ha. Ha. Funny. You want to learn anything more, let’s go. And hurry, he won’t be out long, and I’ll be gone before he wakes up. You’ve got one minute before I leave.”
Shit, shit, shit. MJ did not want to do this. It meant more time away from Angelina. For who knew how long. Why was Tasha here if not to turn herself in? Did she expect help with the murder spree?
MJ grabbed her shoes and jacket. “My bag’s on the coffee table.” That way she could grab it and go out the front or back door.
“Do I look like room service?”
“You’re the one inconveniencing my life, you can damn well get my bag.”
With a shrug, Tasha hefted the duffel bag onto her shoulder. “You always sleep that heavy after sex?”
MJ spared a second from pulling on her jacket to send Tasha a glaring look. MJ doubted Tasha saw it in the dark, but MJ didn’t think Tasha would miss the frostiness in the air.
Which she ignored.
“That’s how Keith got a jump on you, isn’t it? He knew you crashed, he fucked you, took the haul and scooted on out to meet his buddies."
Yeah, that summed up her stupidity pretty well. “They didn’t get away.”
“But you nearly got yourself killed. Maybe you ought to give up sex.”
Tasha had a point, not that MJ liked having her faults pointed out to her. “I’l
l take that into consideration.”
Tasha’s white teeth gleamed in the moonlight.
“Lighten up,” Tasha said, “I’m just teasing.”
“You and Ben. Just a laugh a minute around here.”
“I don’t know if he’s a laugh a minute, but he is pretty brave protecting you like that. Very gallant.”
The thought had already crossed MJ’s mind, but like most thoughts about Ben, it took her places she didn’t want to go. “He’s trained.”
“Gotcha. Any agent would have done what he did.” Tasha’s voice held a noticeable tinge of disbelief.
“Of course.” MJ finished tying her black Keds canvas shoes and checked on Ben again. His pulse was still steady and strong.
“He’ll be all right.”
“No thanks to you.” MJ pushed his hair back from his eyes, adjusted the pillow to make him as comfortable as possible. No help for the raging headache he’d have when he awakened. “You’ve already shot him.”
“Who says?”
“Really, who else is going to shoot him?”
“I dunno. A vengeful ex-wife? Jealous girlfriend?”
“Ben’s a nice guy.” Impulsively, MJ kissed his forehead, surprising herself both with the action and the tenderness she felt.
“How sweet.” Tasha snorted. “You really think there is such a thing as a nice guy? I’d think you’d be more leery given your track record.”
“Ben’s a nice guy,” MJ insisted, not sure why she felt the need. “Your brother’s a nice guy. Just because Keith was bad.” What the hell was she saying? It seemed like the words were coming out of her mouth of their own volition.
“You’re buying into that old two out of three ain’t bad theory?”
Tasha’s eye roll put MJ on the defensive. “Who made you the cynic?”
“Life, honey. And I don’t know that I’d count Niko as a nice guy. He always wanted in your panties.”
“Who said he didn’t get in them?”
“Really? Well, good for you. ‘Bout the only thing a man’s good for. And now if you’re ready, snatch Ben’s shoes there.”
“His shoes?”