Hero For Hire

by Sheridon Smythe

  No small feat!

  Her hand—or something—bumped against his hip. Mac started to smile, thinking she'd head for the edge of the bed for certain now that she probably realized he was naked.

  He was wrong.

  Bold fingers grazed his hip bone, curled around his pulsing manhood, squeezed gently, then moved down. And up. And down. No mistake, no accident, but a conscious, deliberate teeth-clenching sliding motion designed to drive him wild.

  Mac sucked in a sharp breath of disbelief and raw lust. He let it out as slowly as he could, only to draw another one as she rolled over until her body came into contact with his.

  Savannah was naked. Savannah was naked, as naked as he was. Gloriously, wondrously—and alarmingly—naked. Her breasts were flush against his side; he could feel her hard nipples as if they were stones.

  She'd wanted the light out so that he wouldn't know she was naked until it was too late.

  The realization made Mac groan in agony and defeat. Damn Hawk! He'd mentioned nothing about the possibility of a temptation such as this....

  "Mac?” she whispered throatily, pressing closer, squeezing him tighter.

  He swallowed hard, rigid as a board. Everywhere. Even his fingers were rigid as he dug them into the headboard to keep from touching her. “What?” It was nothing more than a hoarse whisper of a sound, but she obviously heard him.

  "I've been thinking about you ... us, a lot."

  He could believe it. Oh, could he believe it! His chest felt tight as he struggled not to pant. Her fingers were hot, and smooth as silk as she slowly stroked him. He was ever aware of her breasts brushing against his side as she moved her hand up and down.

  It was agony.

  It was bliss.

  "Do you think...?” Her seductive whisper in the darkness added to Mac's agony. “Could we just do it, and not worry about tomorrow? I want to be loved by you, Mac, and no one else."

  How could a man deny such a request?

  "I think I might die if we don't."

  And he couldn't have her death on his conscious, could he?

  Mac pried his fingers loose from the headboard, one by one. He forced himself to take deep, steady breaths, but they came out all shaky.

  He realized he was trembling from head to toe.

  Savannah was doing this to him. She was offering him something he'd craved for a very long time. True, she was offering her body and nothing else ... but what if this offering were all he'd ever have of her? What if he managed to turn away from her now—as if he could!—and she never fell in love with him? He'd never stop cursing himself for missing out on having this one incredible night with her.

  Yet if he gave in, if he let himself live for the moment, then Savannah's own craving would be satisfied, and the chase might be over before he won the prize.

  "You started the fire, Mac.” Her warm, moist mouth closed around his nipple; her tongue felt like tiny flickering flames as it darted in and out. “And now I'm burning."

  Her provocative accusation prompted a guilty wince from Mac. She was right, and he knew it. He was the cause, which left him with a responsibility to douse the flames.

  Or fan them into a roaring blaze.

  Savannah took the decision out of his hands. In one startling, sensuous move, she rolled on top of him and sat up, pinning his erection between her warm, silken thighs.

  Like before, only this time the barrier of his trousers was absent, her heat against him shockingly intense as it mingled with his own stick of fire. She placed her hands against his flat nipples and slowly drew her nails along his chest, down across his belly, until her fingers rested lightly on the tip of his arousal.

  With a scoot that made him gasp, she moved so that she could grasp his throbbing length with both of her clever little hands.

  "If I force you, you can't feel guilty,” she suggested huskily, obviously sensing his hesitation.

  Mac tried to chuckle at her naive threat, but moaned instead. If she'd only be still, maybe he could think! “You can't force a man, Sav."

  After a tiny silence, she demanded, “Why not?"

  What could he tell her? That a man has to be willing, and if he's willing, then there would be no force involved? Shaking his head, Mac gave up. Explaining would waste too much precious time.

  He'd much rather show her. He slid his hands along her smooth thighs, cupping her hips. “Savannah ... are you certain you want this?"

  Instead of answering right away, Savannah took his hand and placed it against her burning core. He could feel her throbbing, and she was moist. Very moist.

  "I'm sure, Mac,” she whispered, arching her back as he began to move his thumb back and forth. “I'm very sure."

  With a low growl, Mac picked her up and laid her beside him. She protested, winding her arms around his neck. He laughed and bent his mouth near hers. “I'm not leaving you, just getting you into a better position."

  "Oh.” She sounded perplexed. Her hand came up and cupped his chin. “Wasn't that a good position?"

  "Yes, but the first time ... the first time will hurt, Sav."

  "I know."

  Surprised, he drew back, trying to visualize her expression in the dark. “You do?” She didn't sound frightened at the prospect.

  "Alissa told me,” she confessed. “She also told me that a man liked a woman to—to be on top of him."

  Mac gave in to temptation and brought her breast close to his hungry mouth. He flicked his tongue over her nipple very lightly, then paused, allowing his breath to follow in its wake. “What else did she tell you?” he asked in a low voice, rejoicing when she shivered.

  "Mac, kiss me there, please!"

  But Mac delayed her pleasure long enough to demand roughly, “If I do, will you tell me?"

  "Yes, yes!"

  He nipped her with his teeth, darting at her nipple with his tongue as she had done to him. She moaned and arched into him.

  Breathlessly, she asked, “May I show you, instead?"

  It was too great an offer to refuse. And Mac had to be honest with himself—he was curious. “Yes, you may show me ... if you're certain?"

  "I've never been more certain of anything in my life,” she answered.

  Mac allowed her to push him onto the pillows again. He tensed, wondering at her next move. Her hair brushed teasingly across his chest, then the silken swathe feathered his belly. Had she infiltrated his dreams? How else could Savannah know that he'd dreamed of her pale, glorious hair spread across his chest? Rigid with anticipation, Mac buried his hand in her thick hair and held tight.

  Something warm and wet closed over the tip of his erection.

  Her mouth, he realized, an instant too late.

  He jolted upright, grabbing at her shoulders. “Ahhhh! Savannah—"

  "No, Mac.” She pushed him forcefully down again with the flat of her hand. “You said I could show you."

  But he hadn't known, hadn't dreamed she would do this. To go from sweet innocence to the most intimate act Mac could imagine in his wildest fantasies, was a shock to his mind and his system.

  He halted her progress again. “You—you shouldn't,” he strangled out, not understanding exactly why he didn't want her to continue. It was sweet torture, he couldn't deny. Yet ... yet this was Savannah! His lady love, the woman he yearned to make his wife. She wasn't a practiced whore—

  "Why not, Mac? Why can't I? You touched me ... there with your mouth."

  The image she evoked made Mac's mouth go dry. How to argue against such irrefutable logic? How to explain without sounding ridiculously prudish? He cleared his throat, his hands still holding her still. “We—we don't know each other that well, Sav—” he began lamely.

  Her husky laughter sent chills rolling down his spine.

  "Oh, Mac! You and I know each other very well. We've been friends forever, remember?"

  Desperately, Mac tried another tactic, one that was also the truth. “If you continue, then my release will come early.” He felt her grow
very still beneath his hands, and stifled the urge to laugh. Finally, he'd gotten her attention! He fought to keep it. “Let me love you this first time.” His voice lowered, became huskily persuasive. “Let me love you good and proper."

  "Well, I don't know about proper," she teased, thankfully moving away from his throbbing erection. “But I certainly want you to love me."

  Mac felt a quiver rush through him at her words, wishing she meant them literally. But he knew she didn't, and the knowledge pained him. “Come here, woman,” he commanded. Savannah didn't love him, but after tonight, surely she would know that he loved her. He couldn't say the words, but he could show her.

  She twisted around and rested her elbows on his chest, her soft breasts dangling temptingly close to his mouth. They were nearly nose to nose, and he could feel her warm breath against his face. “Mac, I want you to know that I don't expect—” she began.

  His finger against her lips shushed her. He replaced it with his mouth, kissing her with all the pent-up longing that swirled inside his chest. He kissed her with passion, and with dominance; he kissed her with desperation and fear, because she didn't love him.

  Most of all, he kissed her with love.

  Tenderly, he rolled her to the side and began to love her good and proper, sweeping his mouth along every exposed inch of her. Tasting, nibbling, licking and sucking. He gorged himself on Savannah, vowing she would never forget him after this night. She was a delicious banquet, a feast to his starving soul, and he feasted.

  And she responded like the angel she was, moaning and clutching him. Gasping when his lips found an extremely sensitive spot, stifling a scream when he plundered the hot core of her with his fingers. She was wet and tight, and Mac groaned, anticipating and fearing the moment when he would sink himself into her.

  He'd had his share of women—mostly whores who knew how to please—but he'd never lain with a woman he loved. If he had known what an incredible difference it made, he might have remained a virgin until this time.

  "Mac, I'm burning up!” Savannah whimpered.

  "I am too, sweetheart.” Mac had never been more sincere. Still, he hesitated. “It will hurt—"

  "I don't care!"

  He smiled at her panting, vehement response, damning the darkness that kept him from watching her beautiful face. He imagined it instead. Her cheeks would be flushed with desire, her eyes glazed and heavy. And those lips.., those luscious lips would be parted with anticipation.

  Gently spreading her legs, Mac rose above her arching, restless body. She was open and ready, waiting for him. Wanting him. Her hands clutched his arms, urging him forward. Her hips bucked against him, reaching for him.

  It was all he could do to keep from plunging ruthlessly into her, claiming her in one fell swoop as he cried his release in a primitive howl.

  But he didn't, wary and mindful of her innocence. He gritted his teeth and sank into her inch by careful inch. Full and throbbing, pulsing and aching, he claimed Savannah as his own, if only in his heart.

  She embraced him as if she knew it.

  Then she grew still, but Mac sensed it was an expectant stillness ... a waiting one. He continued to ease into her, glorying in the sensations that coursed through his body. Fire and ice mingled in his veins ... roared through his head and into his heart.

  He wondered if she felt the same.

  "Mac,” she whispered. “Oh, Mac. It's everything I expected. Don't stop now. Please don't stop!"

  He didn't intend to. He couldn't. When he met resistance, he hesitated but a second before he pushed through it and buried himself to the hilt.

  Savannah began to move again before he could begin to wonder how much she hurt. Her hips rose, then fell as if she couldn't get enough. Her nails dug into his arms, pulling his weight onto her. Chest to breasts, their mouths met unerringly in the dark. Tongues clashed in a fever of rising desire. Mac drank her mouth like it was wine, and became lightheaded.

  Exhilarated by her response, he set a slow, sweet, agonizing pace, and each time he thrust into her, he felt as if he claimed her anew. This was his woman, his life mate. Why else would he feel this glory, this unearthly pleasure in loving her?

  "Savannah, oh God, Savannah,” he breathed, his throat aching with unmanly tears. He buried his face in her neck and inhaled her rich scent. She was his! She had to be his!

  Her hands roamed urgently along his back and shoulders, down to his buttocks. She kept them there, and with each thrust, she clutched him tighter to her, urging him closer, deeper. She had begun to whimper, her head tossing to and fro on the pillow.

  Sensing that her release was near, Mac rose slightly and captured her thrusting nipple with his teeth. He suckled hard, feeling the blood rush to his manhood as his own pleasure crested. A low moan warned him just in time to close his mouth over hers, capturing her scream.

  He tumbled with her over the edge, his entire body rigid with the strength of his release. It seemed to last forever, as if time stood still just for this precious moment. The sound of their harsh breathing receded until there was nothing left but the pounding of their hearts.

  Mac was stunned at the miracle he'd experienced in the arms of the woman he loved. Tenderly, he rolled to the side and held her close to his heart. His lips trailed over her damp forehead as he mouthed the words, I love you.

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  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Savannah awakened as dawn began to filter through the curtains, bathing the hotel room in its fragile new light.

  She felt fragile and new. Fragile because of the burgeoning ache in her heart, and new because Mac had made her complete. He had unveiled the mystery of love.

  He lay curled behind her, spoon fashion, one leg flung over her own, his arm draped over her hips in an unconsciously possessive gesture that made Savannah smile. When he awakened, would he realize she had deliberately seduced him? Would he know that she had come to bed brazenly naked in the hopes of making him forget his honorable vows?

  She could not tell him why she'd made such a bold move. She couldn't explain to Mac that she loved him, and wanted to have this one night of making love with him to carry her through the rest of her life. If she told him, Mac would insist on doing the honorable thing; he would want to marry her. And when she protested, he would claim he loved her.

  Savannah knew that he didn't, not as a woman, not as a man should love a wife. He wanted her—yes. Respected her—no doubt. Cared for—it was obvious. They were dear friends. Perhaps for some women those important factors would have been enough. Maybe she was just being selfish in wanting more.

  She was a lot wiser after spending a few hours talking to Alissa. She'd learned how to tempt a man beyond reason. Alissa had also confirmed what Mac had told her; that both love and lust did not have to be present to experience the joy of coupling, at least for a man. Since Savannah loved Mac, she couldn't say if it could be the same for a woman.

  Loving Mac had made their joining unforgettable.

  Against her back, Savannah became aware that Mac's breathing had changed. So, the coming of dawn had awakened him, too, she mused. What was he thinking as he lay next to her? Was he struggling against his conscience at this very moment as he recalled their fiery night? If she knew Mac at all—and she thought she did—he would be rehearsing his guilt-prompted proposal. Mac was a convincing liar, and loving him as she did, she knew that it would take tremendous will power to remember that it was the Honorable Mac speaking, and not Mac the Man.

  He spoke, his voice husky from sleep. “Did you sleep well?"

  Savannah smiled. She could feel his manhood stirring to life against her back. Her breasts grew taut in response; her nipples sprang to life. Maybe she could distract him, postpone the inevitable speech, the inevitable ending. "Very well. And you?"

  "Mm. We've got an early train to catch,” he reminded her. Yet, instead of rising, he pushed her hair aside and began nuzzling her neck. The rough pads of his fingers drifted over h
er stomach, searching and finding proof of her ‘alertness.'

  She sucked in a sharp breath as he began to roll her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Her words came out slightly strangled. “We've got another hour or two. Perchance we could...?” His chuckled rumbled through her body, clear down to her toes.

  "Aren't you sore, sweetheart?"

  "Yes. No.” Savannah licked her dry lips and slowly, languidly, stretched her body. “Why don't we find out?” she asked, turning into his arms so that she faced him. His arousal throbbed hotly against her belly, shooting a thrill straight to her toes.

  She gazed into his desire-laden eyes. They were the color of moss in the dawn light, framed by thick auburn lashes. His lips were tilted slightly, revealing a disarming dimple she hadn't noticed before. “We—we should take advantage of the time we have left, don't you think?"

  Amusement further darkened his beautiful eyes to a rich forest green, but he made no protest when she boldly rose and straddled him. She bent forward, her hair falling around them, enclosing them in a cocoon of hushed silence. Their mouths met in a sweet kiss of remembrance.

  The sweetness lasted but a moment. Savannah gasped as Mac thrust his hand through her hair and clutched the nap of her neck, deepening the kiss with unrestrained passion. He made a low, growling noise in his throat when she opened her mouth under his.

  His manhood throbbed and pulsed between her legs, reminding her of last night's pleasure. Without thought, Savannah lifted her hips to take him inside her. She would make for herself one last memory....

  * * * *

  "No.” Mac's throat felt raw, as if he'd had to rip the word out. And he damned near did. He didn't want her to stop. Of course he didn't. What was he thinking when he stilled her hips and told her no?

  But he knew. Mac knew exactly what he was thinking. It was a selfish thought. How could Savannah think loving thoughts when lust clouded her vision? How would she ever see him in a matrimonial light if he was constantly giving in to her desires without asking for a commitment?

  Mac recalled something he'd once heard his grandmother say; Why buy the cow if you can get the milk free? His grandmother had been talking about a girl who'd gotten into trouble by giving herself before marriage. Her intended had broken the engagement and moved on to greener pastures.