by Joan Hohl
Her first reaction was sharp anger. Who did this jerk think he was, pawing at her? Bringing her hands up, she pushed at his shoulders, fully expecting him to move off her at once and apologize sheepishly. Fear began when she couldn’t dislodge him. He was a lot stronger than he looked. With all her twisting and turning she could not escape his lips. She couldn’t breathe and she felt sure that if he didn’t lift his head soon she’d faint from lack of air. Panic shot through her when his fingers dug into her now-exposed breasts and one bony knee attempted to pry her legs apart. This couldn’t be happening. Not to her.
Blackness was stealing into her mind when his lips slid from hers, moved to fasten, hurtfully on the soft skin on the side of her neck.
“David, stop,” Micki gasped between huge gulps of consciousness-saving breaths. Fear lent inspiration as, struggling frantically, she lied. “I’ve got to get back, my father will be coming to pick me up.”
“You don’t have to go anywhere,” David panted, his fingers digging viciously into her breasts. “I heard you tell Cindy you’d be alone all weekend because your folks are out of town.”
His lips moved in a sucking action, drawing a cry of pain from her. Nausea filled her throat when his knee succeeded in pushing her legs apart and his slender frame pressed her deeper into the gritty sand.
“David, please stop.” She was crying openly, her sobs catching at her throat when she felt his hand move down her body, tug at her bikini bottom. “No!” Her voice rose in a muffled scream of pure desperation.
“Hey!” David yelped loudly. Then suddenly his weight was removed, yanked away from her violently.
“You stupid jerk.” The enraged, unfamiliar growl was followed by the stinging sound of a hard, open-handed blow and a loud cry of pain from David. “Get the hell out of here or I’ll break you in half.”
Still crying, blinking against the tears that blurred her vision, Micki cringed back when big hands grasped her shoulders, lifted her from the sand.
“It’s all right, he’s gone.” The soft tone that had replaced the enraged growl was recognizable now as belonging to Wolf Renninger.
“He—he—he tried to—”
“I know,” Wolf snapped, preventing her from saying the word rape. “But it’s over now,” he went on in a softer tone. He pulled her impersonally, protectively against his broad, hard chest, brushed the sand from her back with his big hand. “I’ll see that you get home safely.”
“Oh, no,” Micki moaned, rubbing her forehead back and forth over the smooth material of his shirt.
“No?” Wolf repeated impatiently. “What do you mean, no?”
“You don’t understand,” she wailed. “Dad and Regina are away for the weekend. I’ll be alone in the house and David knows it. What if he—?” Micki paused to swallow a fresh lump of fear. “I don’t want to go home.”
He cursed softly, then was very still for long seconds before, moving away from her, he said decisively, “Okay, you can come with me for a while, then I’m taking you home.”
The harshness of his voice confused and frightened her. Meekly, after hurriedly tugging her suit top into place and fastening her beach wrap at the neck, she followed in his wake as he walked around the sand dune and strode toward the road where a low-slung car was parked.
“Come on,” Wolf gritted irritably at her slow progress through the tall grass.
As she slid onto the seat of the sports car, Micki slanted a quick look at him through her long lashes, wondering what she’d said, or done, to make him so angry. Surely he didn’t think she had encouraged David in any way? She jumped when the door slammed beside her, and again when his own slammed, after he’d folded his long frame onto the seat behind the wheel. Opening her mouth to ask him what was wrong, Micki glanced at him and closed her lips quickly at the hard, rigid set of his face. Wolf started the car and made a U-turn on Ocean Drive, heading away from the city.
“Where are we going?” Micki asked hesitantly.
“I’ve got my boat docked not far from here,” he replied tersely. “I have to move it.”
They drove a short distance beyond the city limits. Then Wolf turned off the drive toward the bay where he parked the car on a small lot in front of a rather rundown building with a red neon sign that read BAR& GRILL.
“Where were you?”
The question was punctuated by his hard tug on the hand brake. For a second Micki blinked at him in confusion, then his meaning registered.
“At a cookout beach party, at a friend’s home.”
“Did you go dressed like that?” he snapped.
“No, of course not,” Micki snapped back, beginning to feel a little steadier as the shock from her experience receded. “My clothes are at the house.”
“What’s this friend’s name and phone number?”
“You’re not going to call her?” Micki cried.
“Yes, I am,” Wolf sighed in exasperation. “When you don’t come back they’re liable to call the police. If they haven’t already.”
Micki hadn’t thought of the furor her absence might cause. Chastised, she murmured the name and number.
“Okay, I’ve got it.” He opened the car door and stepped out. “Stay here, I’ll be back in a minute.”
The door swung closed with a loud bang. Biting her lip, Micki wondered again why he was so angry. As the minute stretched into five and then ten, Micki’s temper flared. What was he doing all this time? Probably having a drink with the boys, while she sat alone in a dark parking lot. And who did he think he was anyway? He had no right to snap and snarl at her. By the time he returned, she had talked herself into a fury.
“What were you doing all this time?” she demanded the minute he’d opened the door beside her.
“Don’t take that tone with me.” Wolfs soft voice held a definite warning. “What I do, who I make time with, is no concern of yours. If you’ve got any sense at all, you’ll guard that nasty little tongue. You couldn’t even handle Joe College back there. I’d crush you like an annoying little gnat. Now get out of the car, I’m taking you home.”
“But—” she began.
“Out,” he cut in harshly.
Micki bit her lip, feeling very young, and very inexperienced, and very, very stupid. He was right, of course, she had no right to question him. If it hadn’t been for him ... She shuddered. Belatedly she remembered she hadn’t even thanked him. No wonder he was angry. Knowing what she had to do, she drew a deep breath, slid off the seat, and stood before him, her head bent.
“I’m—I’m sorry, Mr. Renninger,” she whispered contritely. “I know you must think I’m an ingrate.” Wetting her dry lips, Micki lifted her head to look at him, her eyes made even brighter by the shimmer of tears. “I—I haven’t even thanked you for helping me. But I am grateful, truly, and—and—” She had to pause to swallow against the tightness in her throat. “I wanted you to know I didn’t invite that attack.”
“I didn’t think you had.” Wolf’s much gentler tone brought a fresh rush of tears to her eyes. “Don’t cry, Micki.” His hand came up to cradle her face, one long finger brushed at her tears. “I know it was a bad experience, but you’re unhurt and—” He broke off and leaned toward her. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”
“No, not really.” Micki shook her head, drawing a deep breath to combat the increase in heartbeat his nearness caused. “The only thing hurt is my dignity.”
“It will heal,” he murmured, lowering his head closer to hers. His fingers shook as if he’d had a sudden chill, then he snatched his hand away as though her skin had burned him. “Come on, kid, I’ve got to get you home.”
The gentleness had gone, replaced by an edgy roughness Micki didn’t understand, as she didn’t understand the hard emphasis he’d placed on the word kid.
“But what about your car?”
“It isn’t mine. It belongs to the guy that owns this place.”
Grasping her arm, he hurried her around the building and onto a rickety pie
r. Secured to the pier, bathed dimly in the glow from the building’s side windows, was a cabin cruiser that brought a small gasp from Micki.
“Is that beautiful thing yours?” she asked in an awed tone.
“Yes,” Wolf replied shortly. “Go aboard, I want to cast off.”
“Please.” Micki’s hand caught his arm as he turned away. “Could I have a quick tour of her before we go?”
The muscles in his arm tensed under her fingers and Micki was sure he was about to refuse. Then with a soft sigh of resignation, he said crisply, “All right, a very quick tour.”
He helped her to board the shadowy craft, then, one hand at her waist to guide her, he led her across the deck and down a short flight of stairs with a murmured, “Careful.” There was the sound of a switch being flicked and Micki blinked against the sudden light that filled the small salon she was standing in. Glancing around at the sparse, masculine furnishings, she breathed, “How many does she sleep?”
“Ten,” Wolf replied curtly, indicating a narrow portal across the room. Micki stepped through the portal into an equally narrow passageway, which had two doors on each side. When she hesitated at the first door on her left, Wolf grated, “Get on with it.”
Biting back the retort that sprang to her lips, Micki pushed the door open. The cabin contained a small fitted dresser and four fitted bunks. The cabin next to it was exactly the same. As she withdrew from the second cabin, Wolf opened the door directly across the passage, with a terse, ‘The head.”
The small, but adequate-sized bathroom was equipped with a stainless steel toilet, shower stall, and fitted washbowl. Wolf was standing at the open door of the last cabin when she emerged from the head. He made a half bow as she approached him. ‘The captain’s quarters,” he drawled mockingly.
Feeling herself grow warm under his mocking glance, Micki unfastened her beach wrap and preceded him into the cabin. It was larger than the other two cabins. Instead of fitted bunks it contained a built-in bed, not quite as wide as a regular double bed.
At sight of the bed, Micki’s body was suddenly suffused with warmth. Feeling constricted, she pulled her wrap open. Casting about in her mind for something to say to the silent man standing just inside the cabin, she turned slowly.
“Is—is this where you sle—” The words died on her lips at the sudden, fierce look on his face. Her breathing stopped as he walked to her, his silvery eyes gleaming dangerously behind narrowed lids.
“What’s wrong?” she gasped, terrified by the look of him.
That creep bastard marked you,” he snarled softly, bending over her to examine her throat and the smooth skin below her shoulders.
“Oh, no,” she groaned, her hand flying to her neck. “Is it very bad?”
“Bad enough,” he clipped, straightening. “Sit down, I’ll get some antiseptic to put on it.”
Disregarding his order, she walked to the small mirror above the dresser and leaned toward it to peer closely at the red marks.
“I told you to sit.” The hard sound of his voice set her teeth on edge.
“I’m not a dog,” Micki flared, close to tears.
“You’re telling me,” he drawled, holding his hand out to her. “Come on, let me dab this stuff on you.”
Ignoring his hand, Micki walked by him stiffly. Sitting down gingerly on the very edge of the bed, she lifted her head to expose her neck, and closed her eyes. When the antiseptic touched the abrasion, she drew her breath in sharply and shut her eyes more tightly to stem the corresponding sting in her eyes.
“Sorry,” he muttered softly. He was so close. His warm breath feathered her skin, setting off a clamoring inside her that ended in a visible shiver. “I could slug him for doing this to you.” The soft intensity of his tone increased her shivering. Keeping her eyes tightly closed, holding her breath, Micki sat immobile. Something strange was happening to her. Something strange, and a little scary, and almost unbearably exciting.
The feather light touch of his lips on her skin felt like a touch from an exposed electrical wire. Trembling, Micki moaned deep in her throat. She heard his raspy, indrawn breath an instant before he sighed softly, groaned, “Dear God, Micki.”
His mouth touched hers gently, experimentally. When she didn’t flinch away, the pressure increased and his hands grasped her upper arms. Her heart beating wildly, Micki returned the kiss. She gasped against his mouth when the hard tip of his tongue moved slowly across her lips, but she obeyed the silent command to part them. His mouth still gentle, exploring, he straightened, drawing her to her feet in front of him.
Micki didn’t know what was happening to her. She had been kissed before, many times, but never had she felt this sweet joy zinging through her veins, this lightheaded, intoxicating sensation. When she swayed toward him, touched his body with her own, he lifted his head, held her away from him. “I’ve got to take you home,” he rasped unevenly.
“Why?” Micki asked huskily.
“Don’t you know?” Wolf groaned. “Have you really no idea of the effect you’re having on me?”
Elation shot through her, gave her the courage to lean toward him, slide the tip of her tongue across his mouth. He went stone still, then gritted. “Where the hell did you learn that trick?”
Micki’s eyes went wide at his rough tone. “From you, just now. I’ve never—never—”
“Why did you do it?” His growl had lost its bite.
“Because”—Micki wet her lips, felt a curl of excitement when his eyes dropped to her mouth—”because I was afraid you weren’t going to kiss me again—and I wanted you to.”
“You’re too young to know what you want.” Micki’s head was shaking a denial before he’d finished speaking, but he didn’t give her time to voice it. “If I kissed you, I mean really kissed you, you’d be fighting me in a cold panic within seconds, exactly like you were fighting that teenage Don Juan back at the beach.”
“No, I wouldn’t,” Micki denied softly. “I didn’t want him to kiss me. I do want you to.”
His silvery eyes stared hard into hers, then dropped to her mouth, then lifted to her eyes again. “I must be out of my mind,” he muttered. “I never should have brought you here after the jealousy I felt of that punk.”
“You felt jealous of David!” Micki exclaimed. “But why?”
“Because”—Wolfs voice was very low as he drew her slowly against his long frame—”I wanted to be in exactly the same position he was in, you beautiful fool.”
This time there was very little gentleness. His lips crushed hers, forcing them apart roughly. His tongue probed hungrily. Flaring lights actually seemed to explode behind her eyes. Raising her arms, she curled them around his neck, needing suddenly to be closer to him. He half groaned, half growled into her mouth then his hands moved across her shoulders, down her back, molding her to his hard body. Responding to the demands of her body, Micki arched her hips against him. At once lips pulled away from hers, moved in a fiery path over her cheek to her ear.
“Micki, stop me while you still can.” His voice held half plea, half command.
“I don’t want you to stop.” The moment the words were out she knew she spoke the truth. She had never behaved like this before in her life, yet she knew she wanted to, had to, belong to this man.
Although his hands still held her tightly to him, he lifted his head, gave her another of those hard stares. ‘You’ve been with a man before?”
Micki hesitated, knowing somehow that if she told him the truth he’d put her from him, take her home. Praying that in the dim light her flush would look like guilt, she lowered her lashes, whispered, “Yes.”
A flash of something—pain, disgust—twisted his face. He gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head then lowered his mouth to within a whisper of hers. Again she heard that half groan, half growl.
“I don’t care.” His hands spread over her hips, pulling her tightly against him. “Oh, God, baby, I want you.”
Her wrap and her bikini
were removed gently but swiftly. For the first time in her life Micki stood naked before a man, amazed that she felt no shame or fear. As he undressed, his eyes, gleaming like liquid silver, moved slowly over her body, the burning, naked hunger in them igniting an eagerness in her to be in his arms, be part of him.
Slowly, expertly, his mouth and hands an exquisite torture, he fanned the flame inside her to a roaring blaze. Gasping, moaning softly deep in her throat, her lips leaving tiny, urgent kisses on his neck, his shoulders, she welcomed him when, finally, his body covered hers. Moments later he cursed her.
“Damn you!” Wolf s tone held anger, but an odd note of satisfaction as well. “You lied to me.”
“Yes,” she admitted into the curve of his shoulder, her arms tightening around his waist, refusing to let go.
“Oh, baby, baby.” He kissed her mouth tenderly. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m not,” Micki replied honestly. “I wanted this as badly as you did, Wolf.”
“Sweet Lord, I’ve found myself a sexy teenage vixen,” Wolf muttered huskily, his body moving excitingly.
“You’d better enjoy it while you can,” Micki laughed teasingly. “I’ll only be a teenager two more months.”
“A vixen and a tease,” Wolf moaned between short, quick breaths, then, “Oh, God, Micki, kiss me.”
Micki’s initiation into the world of serious lovemaking lasted until three o’clock the following morning. Wolf was a master tutor, and under his ardent guidance she caught a glimpse of the wondrous things his eyes had seemed to speak of that time on the boardwalk. Exhausted, she curled still closer to him, heard him laugh softly as his arms tightened around her.
“That was just the first chapter of the text,” he teased. “Do you think you’ll graduate?”
“Cum laude,” she murmured sleepily and was rewarded by a light kiss on the corner of her mouth.
“Go to sleep, sweetheart,” Wolf whispered into her ear.
* * *
Chapter 4
“Wake up, sweetheart.”
Micki jumped at the sound of her father’s quiet voice, the gentle touch of his hand on her arm.