by Cara Summers
He couldn’t, either. He’d felt hunger for a woman before, but not like this. And he wasn’t sure how much longer he could wait for more. Her mouth was only inches from his. He could free his hands now and put an end to the torture. But his arms felt weak. No woman had ever made him feel weak before.
She tangled her tongue with his again, then said, “Before I decide if I like your mouth best, there’s a part of you that I haven’t sampled yet. I wouldn’t want to rush to judgment.”
Her breath against his lips along with the image that was forming in his mind set his body aflame.
“First, I’m going to sample some of this champagne.”
He watched her sip from the bottle, replace it on the table. Then as if she were moving in slow motion, she shifted so that she was straddling his legs.
He waited, watching her through narrowed eyes as she closed her hands around him and lowered her head. The first lick of her tongue on the tip of his shaft had him moaning her name. It was cold from the champagne and the shock sent a shudder moving through him. Then she licked him again…and again.
“Rory—” He barely recognized the raspy sound of his own voice. He couldn’t for the life of him figure out what he wanted to say. Did he want her to stop? To go on? Each lick of her tongue as she moved her mouth lower and lower on his shaft sent a knife-sharp arrow of pleasure shooting through his system. She was devouring him as if he were some treat she’d been starving for. The sensations were agonizing. Incredible. He closed his fingers around the posts of the bed and held on tightly. Then when he was sure he couldn’t take it anymore, she took him into her mouth.
“Mmm.”
The soft murmurs of pleasure she made vibrated through him and drummed their way into his brain. His heart was beating so fast that he was sure it would burst through his chest.
Her mouth was hot now, almost as hot as the fire raging inside of him. Each time she moved those lips down and then up, she pulled one emotion after another from him—things that he’d buried deep. And he was powerless to stop her.
His climax was building. He could feel it the same way he could feel a storm building when thunder rumbled and lightning flashed. No one had ever made him feel helpless like this. The sensation shuddered through his stomach and burned through his brain. He shouldn’t, he couldn’t let her do this to him.
Twisting his hands free, he reached for her and pulled her on top of him. The moment he entered her, it was too late to regain control. The storm that she’d been building inside of him from the moment that he’d walked into the room suddenly broke free, and he began to move inside her, matching her rhythm until with one last thrust, he gave himself to her.
RORY COULDN’T HAVE NAMED the feelings swirling through her when Hunter finally drew her to him. Should she have known that making love to a man like that would bring such a variety of pleasures? Should she not have been amazed that a sigh could make her burn or that the raspy sound of her name on Hunter’s lips could make her almost forget what she was doing?
Each time she’d touched him, each time she’d tasted him, the thrill of his response had only increased her hunger for him. Even now, his scent tantalized her, and the damp heat of his flesh beckoned to her. There were flavors that she hadn’t discovered yet. She was sure of it.
When she angled her head and licked his neck, he tightened his hold on her. “Give me…a moment.”
She could do that. His heart still thundered under hers, and he was holding her as if he never intended to let her go. That brought its own very separate kind of feeling. Because he would go. They’d laid the ground rules.
Even as a little pang of loss stung her heart, she pushed the thought out of her mind. She wasn’t going to think of what it would be like not to have him like this. Not to be able to touch him or taste him again.
“That was…incredible.”
He was still short of breath. How amazing to learn that making a man breathless, making him shudder, could bring such a pleasure-filled power. She couldn’t wait to experience it again.
She nipped his shoulder. “I’m up for seconds. How about you?”
The next thing she knew, she was beneath him on the bed. And he was amazingly ready. She could feel the hard length of him probing her. Wrapping her arms and legs around him, she said, “I guess all you really needed was a moment.”
“I want you again right now.”
She thought she heard a hint of anger in his tone, but what she saw in his eyes was vulnerability. Whatever power she’d felt before changed to wonder. She wanted him even more than she had a second ago. Tightening her hold on him, she struggled to pull him in even deeper. But it was like trying to move a rock. “You can have me. What’s the problem?”
He framed her face with his hands. “I’ll tell you what the problem is. I want to do to you what you just did to me. I want to touch you and taste you and torture you until you can’t think of anything but wanting me inside of you.”
“That’s all I can think of right now.” That was nothing less than the truth. She wiggled, tried to thrust against him, but he stayed right where he was. Her insides were melting, but he wasn’t where she needed him to be. “Please.”
He withdrew and then pushed himself a little farther into her. Still not far enough.
“Every time I’m near you, the same feeling comes over me that came over me in that damn dressing room,” he said. “I have to be inside of you.”
She arched against him, trying again to take all of him. “You know, if torture was what you had in mind, you’re on the right track.”
She felt him smile as he pressed his lips against hers. But when he lifted his head and met her gaze again, his eyes were serious. “It’s never been this way for me before. I’ve never wanted anyone this much.”
“Same goes for me,” she said.
“That’s a problem.”
There was that hint of vulnerability in his eyes again, and she wanted to soothe it away. “Can we solve it tomorrow? I have a much bigger problem for you to take care of right now. I’m think I’m going to explode if you don’t make me come.”
“I can take care of that,” Hunter said as he pushed himself a little deeper.
Her breath caught in her throat, but she managed to say, “More. Kiss me and come all the way inside. Now.”
THE MOMENT THAT HIS MOUTH took hers, Hunter felt himself sinking into her. Would it always be like this? He’d never had this temptation—no, this need—to lose himself in a woman before. On one level it terrified him, but on another, it drew him like a magnet. He caught her bottom lip between his teeth and pushed into her all the way.
She tightened around him, trapping him with arms, legs and with that slick, hot core. He lifted his mouth from hers, then held himself perfectly still as he met her eyes. He could see himself trapped there, too—by everything that was Rory. Slowly, trembling with the effort, he withdrew and pushed into her again, withdrew…and pushed in.
“Please—” She arched against him.
He wanted to keep the pace slow—to spin out the pleasure for both of them. But he was losing that battle, too. Each time he withdrew from her, he left parts of himself behind. Each time he pushed in, he felt as if he were coming home. Needs, emotions and pleasure entwined to drag at his control.
“Faster. I need you.”
Hunter wasn’t sure if she’d said the words or if it was his own inner voice speaking. Suddenly all he knew was that he had to bring her to that peak again where she would shatter around him. He thrust into her faster now, and she matched him move for move. She was his now. He wanted to keep her this way, remember her always with her cheeks flushed, her eyes clouded but fastened on him. Then she stiffened, her fingers dug into his hips and he was helpless to do anything but pour himself into her.
RORY WASN’T SURE HOW LONG she let herself drift, savoring the pleasure of lying beside her Terminator. She wasn’t even sure when he’d shifted her so that they were lying side by side on the bed.
But her head was resting on his arm and the fingers of her left hand still clasped his. Finally opening her eyes, she saw that he was studying her, his gaze dark and intent.
“No one has ever looked at me that way,” she said.
“What way?”
“As if you could see all my secrets. And I feel as if I don’t know you at all.”
He lifted their joined hands and pressed a kiss on her knuckles. “You know me.”
“I know parts of you. But there’s so much I don’t know.”
“Like?”
“Your favorite food, your favorite color, what you like to do when you’re not working for Jared Slade.” She felt his fingers tighten slightly on hers when she spoke the name, and instantly she regretted it. “This isn’t the reporter talking. It’s me.”
He said nothing for a moment. “It’s important that you know those things?”
She nodded her head. “I want to know everything.”
“I don’t think I have a favorite food, but I’m partial to anything Italian. And my favorite restaurants are all in New Orleans.”
“I’ve never been there.”
“I’d like to show it to you.”
For a moment, there was silence in the room. Then he said, “As for my favorite color, I don’t think I ever had one. But recently I’ve developed a fondness for red, as long as you’re wearing it.”
Pleasure streamed through her, not so much triggered by the comment as by the intimacy of the moment. She felt so comfortable lying here like this, talking to him. “What about your favorite thing to do?”
“That’s easy. This.” He ran a hand up her inner thigh.
“Besides that,” she said. But her heart was already beginning to beat faster.
“Well, let me see.” He opened her cleft and ran his finger slowly down it. “There’s this.”
Her hips shifted involuntarily. “I’m serious. What do you do when you’re not working—besides have sex?”
For a moment, he didn’t say anything. But he didn’t remove his hand, and she didn’t ask him to. She was so aware that his fingers were right there, almost entering her.
“I like to ride,” he said finally.
“Me, too. My father used to take my sisters and me for riding lessons every Saturday when we were little. Nat never took to it, and Sierra was always afraid. It was the one thing that I could do better than either of my sisters. My dad was really proud of me.”
“We’ll go for a ride tomorrow morning.”
“Really? You’ll have the time?”
“I’ll make the time. But, right now I have a different kind of ride in mind.” He levered himself up and positioned himself between her legs.
“Yes,” she murmured as she arched up to take him in.
They began to move together, but it wasn’t long before Rory said, “Faster.”
“You’re so demanding,” Hunter teased, keeping the rhythm slow and steady. “As a rider, you must know that it’s never good to rush your fences.”
“Please.” Her breath was coming in the short pants that always made him burn. It took all his control not to rush.
“Why don’t I tell you what I eventually intend to do with that red thong and the champagne?”
Leaning down, he began to whisper his plans in her ear. And it wasn’t long until they were rushing the fence together.
LEA ROBERTS BARELY MANAGED a smile for the guard as she pulled up to the booth and flashed her parking permit.
“Working late, weren’t you, Ms. Roberts?” he asked as he gave the permit a cursory glance.
“Yes.” She was careful not to let her frustration show in her voice. Long ago, she’d found that being nice to security guards, secretaries and receptionists made her life run more smoothly. But she couldn’t prevent her fingers from tapping on the steering wheel as she waited for the guard to open the gate.
It was nearly four in the morning, and she’d spent the entire day and most of the night trying to locate Rory Gibbs. Not even her sisters had been able to help. But they knew where she was all right. The cop had been cool and polite, but she’d been lying through her teeth when she’d claimed not to know where Rory was.
Lea hadn’t had any better luck with the academic. Dr. Sierra Gibbs had peered at her through glasses that made her eyes look owlish and acted as though she could barely remember she had a sister named Rory. But the twit had known where Rory was. Lea would have bet her next paycheck on it.
But she didn’t need them. It had taken her a while, but she was pretty sure she knew exactly where Rory was. And she owed it all to a hunch. A good, old-fashioned reporter’s hunch. How long had it been since she’d had one?
Years. Ironically enough, the last time she’d had a good one had been back in Oakwood, Connecticut, when she’d broken the embezzlement story at Marks Banking and Investments.
She’d known from the moment that she’d started a relationship with Hunter Marks that the family was her ticket out of Oakwood. And she’d been right.
She hoped to hell she was right this time, too. After pulling out of the garage, she headed up Fourteenth Street. When the light at the corner turned red, Lea swore under her breath, then began to tap her fingers on the steering wheel again. If her hunch was right and Rory was where she suspected, she needed to hurry.
She felt the press of cold metal at the back of her ear at the same time that she heard the voice.
“Don’t move.”
Lea didn’t think she could, not with the blood freezing in her veins. The voice was even more frightening in person than it was over the phone.
“You’re not answering your phone. Why not?”
Keep calm, she told herself as she cleared her throat. “I’ve been busy.”
“The pictures weren’t in Rory Gibbs’s apartment.”
Lea moistened her lips. “I don’t have them. I’ve been working all day trying to locate her. I’ll have them for you soon.”
“I don’t like people who fail. Those pictures should have been on the front page of the Washington Post by now.”
Lea shuddered when she felt the cold metal trace a path to the back of her neck. “I think I know where Rory Gibbs is.”
“Why should I believe you?” The metal pressed harder into her neck.
Despite that she was cold to the core, Lea felt beads of sweat form on her forehead. “Look, we want the same thing. We both want a story that exposes the true identity of Jared Slade. If I’m right, Rory Gibbs is with Jared Slade right now, and I can tell you exactly how to get there.”
There was a pause. It couldn’t have been long because the traffic light hadn’t yet changed. But to Lea, the stretch of silence in her car felt like an eternity.
“Tell me.”
Fingers gripping the steering wheel and sweat dripping down her face, Lea said, “They’re on the Lucas Wainwright estate in Virginia.”
11
AS THEY RODE ACROSS the first field, Rory couldn’t prevent an envious glance at Hunter’s horse. It was large and black, a real beauty named Lucky, and she was sure it could outrun the lady’s mount that McGee’s son and Hunter had chosen for her. Not that she was unhappy with the pretty filly she was riding. She leaned forward and patted Priscilla’s neck and then glanced at Lucky again. She was developing a definite preference for dark, slightly dangerous males.
Hunter hadn’t been in her bed when she’d awakened that morning. But McGee had brought a note with her coffee and told her that Hunter was in the stables, seeing to the horses. There’d been a flower, too—a red rose from the gardens. The note had read simply, Wear the red thong. She had.
“Why don’t we head up that hill over there and get the lay of the land?” he asked.
“Sure.” Eager to see what Priscilla could do, Rory urged her into a trot, then a canter. Hunter rode at her side as they crossed the field and crested the hill. Though it hadn’t looked to be steep, Rory discovered that it offered a breathtaking view. Ahead were rolling fields and a
stream that snaked its way through them and into woods. Over her shoulder she could see the entire Wainwright estate—the pool, the tennis courts and the stables.
There was a security guard at the gate watching them now through binoculars. He hadn’t been happy when they’d announced their intention to go for a ride, but he hadn’t argued with Hunter. Suddenly, Rory recalled the bomb scare at Les Printemps. How could she have forgotten that? She’d agreed not to ask questions about it, but how could it have completely slipped her mind?
“A penny for your thoughts,” Hunter said.
Turning, she met his eyes. “Have they found out any more about the bomb scare in Mr. Slade’s suite?”
When he hesitated, she held up a hand. “Off the record.”
“What makes you ask?”
“The security guard down there wasn’t happy.” She studied him as a sudden thought occurred to her. “They’re guarding you, too, aren’t they? You’re in danger.” She reined in her horse. “We should go back. I mean, this is wonderful, but you have to put your safety first.”
He reached out a hand to cover hers before she could turn the horse. “They’re just being careful. Mr. Slade was concerned. That’s why Lucas Wainwright offered to let me stay here. We’re perfectly safe, and I didn’t suggest you go for a ride with me to make you worry.”
She glanced around at the empty fields. “You’re sure you’ll be safe?”
“I’m positive, and so will you. You see that stream down there?” he asked. “Are you up to a race?”
He saw the excitement leap into her eyes, and for a moment he was so distracted that he simply sat there as she shot past him. She was halfway down the hill before he dug his heels into Lucky. She was good. More than good, he amended after a few moments. The only reason he was gaining on her was that he had the faster mount.
It wasn’t until they were halfway across the next field that Hunter drew even with her, and for several moments, they galloped side by side. There was nothing but the sun beating down, the scent of the fields, the wind rushing past, and the feel and the sound of the powerful horses beneath them. This was how he’d always centered himself and found his strength. And he’d never shared the experience with another person before.