by Tara Janzen
He kept her backed up against the wall, and he didn’t have a regret in the world about using his physical advantage against her.
She lifted her hand again, but instead of slapping him, she made a fist and hit him on the shoulder-and he let her.
Life was complicated, a real fucking mess most of the time.
She hit him again. “How dare y-you…you…”
He had his hands on her waist, holding on to her, but she wasn’t fighting to get away from him. She was fighting for the sake of it, and she was fighting herself far more than she was fighting him. She was hitting him, yeah, but she was the one who was hurting. Oh, baby, she was hurting bad.
“You sonuvabitching bastard.”
All day, every day. She could count on it.
She twisted against him, but not to get away, just to twist and squirm and ache with the pain.
He was no rocket scientist, never had been. He’d been damn lucky to have even graduated from good old East High in Denver. School had not been his strong suit, despite his half a moment of brilliance in calculus, before it had all gone to hell. He’d never actually seen a point in it, not from kindergarten on, not until he’d joined the Army and started learning stuff that counted. So, yeah, the sheer, cosmic expanse of all the things he didn’t know was pretty damn vast-but give him a compass, a map, a weapon, and a target, and he was the fucking valedictorian of that class. It didn’t matter how complex the problem was, how many countries he had to cross, how many enemies he had to vanquish, he knew how to come out on top-and he knew her. He knew this, where she was in her head, what was driving her, and where she was going to end up, which was the abyss-and he knew how to save her. He knew what she needed, and he knew he was the only guy in the whole world who did-because what she needed was him.
No one else.
Only him.
He pressed closer to her and lowered his head to hers, resting his forehead on her brow, and he let her rant at him, let her vent her anger and her pain, let her pound on his chest until she was clutching his shirt in her hands and just holding on.
“Dax… “ she whispered his name, burying her face in the curve of his neck. “Oh, Dax.”
Yeah, baby. Oh, Dax was here for her.
He kissed the top of her head, let his lips slide over the silken strands of her hair-and he pulled her closer. Even at midnight, it was a hundred degrees in this town, but he was offering her his warmth. He was the man for her.
“Dax… “ She gripped him tighter, buried herself deeper, clinging to him. “Dax. Oh, Dax.” She loosened her hold on his shirt, and her arms came up and around his neck.
Yeah, that was right-and so were the tears. She wasn’t sobbing. She was just crying silently, nearly immobile in his arms now. He felt the wetness on his neck, and it broke his heart. God, life could be so fucking hard, harder than a person could bear.
And yet it had to be borne, every day, in every way, over and over again until the end, and if a guy was lucky, every now and then, he’d end up with a complicated woman in his arms, somebody who could turn him inside out.
“Suzi,” he spoke her name, grounding her with it, bringing her back to him.
She slid her arms farther around his neck, and he kissed her cheek.
“I’m sorry, so sorry, sugar,” he whispered in her ear and kissed her again, and he felt her soften against him.
Sex was a funny thing, and he was thinking about it, but it was all up to her. He wanted to make love with her, to ease her pain, to remind her there was life, always, the flame of it burning deep inside, to give her pleasure and ease her mind.
Yeah, he was such a great, selfless guy.
He wanted to fuck her so sweet, to make her come apart in his arms, to make her his. He wanted to come so deep inside her, to claim her.
Suzi, Suzi Q… sugar baby-he wanted to taste her, make her.
He opened his mouth on her neck and slid one hand down over the curve of her hip to pull her closer, to bring her up against him, and she turned her face into his neck and softly brushed her lips across the skin she’d made wet with her tears.
It was enough.
He kissed her neck, using his teeth so gently, licking her with his tongue and then sliding his mouth to hers and kissing her deep, angling his head to get more of her. Handful by handful, he dragged her skirt up over her ass, giving himself the access he needed. When he had the skirt up around her waist, he slid his hand underneath her white organic cotton panties, over the softest skin he’d ever touched, over the perfect curves of her derriere.
And he fell in love all over again, with the sweet softness between her legs, with the promise of her body.
You and me, babe. Just the two of us in the whole world. Right here. Right now.
Her hands were on his belt, but before he shucked out of his pants, he knelt down and unlaced his boots. Then he reached up, one-handed, and pulled her panties down around her ankles and helped her step out of them.
Moonlight had never looked so pretty as it did on her bare skin and the soft curls between her legs.
He was smitten, the scent and loveliness of her going straight to his head and messing with it. Nothing was better. Leaning forward, he pressed his tongue to the hot, sweet center of her desire, and he teased her, licked her, felt her softly grind her hips against him and tunnel her fingers through his hair.
“Dax… “ His name was a sigh on her lips, her body a silken, tangible force in his arms.
She spread her legs wider, and he slipped his fingers up inside her. She was so soft, so wet, such a gift-electrifying, turning him on, getting him so hot and hard. He plied her with his tongue, loving the taste of her, the little catches in her breath, and the way she was holding him to her, tighter and tighter.
“Dax…”
Come for me, baby. He wanted it so badly, to make her come undone, to make her feel so good. He wanted her to know he was her man, the one she needed, the one who could take her higher.
Her sighs grew rougher, more guttural, and he kept on-on and on and on, endlessly pleasuring her-sliding his fingers in and out of her, teasing her with his tongue, over and over again, until her soft cries became a moan, until she pressed herself against his mouth and held herself there, until he felt the contractions of her release rippling through her.
When she collapsed against the wall, he rose to his feet and shoved his pants to the floor. Taking her mouth with his, he fitted himself to her and pushed up inside. No hesitation. No thoughts. It was mind-bending. She was so hot and slick, taking all of him on his first thrust, to the hilt.
Her mouth was soft and wet, sucking on him, sucking on his tongue, then deepening the kiss. Between them, he felt her undoing the bustier, and he did his best to help. Slowly, the thing opened up, one loosened lace at a time. He ran the tiny black straps off her shoulders, letting them fall to the sides, and then there she was, her breasts so soft and full and filling his hand even as he filled her, again and again, getting lost in her, mindlessly, so easily, following the heated warmth of her skin into a pleasure so deep he never wanted it to end.
All he wanted was to be with her.
To be like this, driving into her, holding her to him. He had his tongue in her mouth, his hand on her breast, and his other hand wrapped under her thigh, lifting her leg around his waist, letting him go deep and deeper. He thrust into her, and she took him every time, all the way, moving her hips with his, until the heat and the rhythm and the seductive softness of her body took him straight over the edge.
He pinned her up against the wall, his body rigid with the pleasure pulsing through him, her soft gasps of breath hot against his mouth. Women. Geezus.
So perfect. Especially her. Hot, and soft, and wet, and silky, turning him on and setting him off.
He pushed into her one last time, keeping himself deep inside, just to feel her as he finished off, just to hear the small sound of pleasure she made. God, he could do her all night long, but she didn’t feel like she ha
d the strength left to get to the bed.
So he held her, and he stayed inside her, just loving the way she felt, his heart still pounding.
She was so dangerous.
God.
“You okay?” he asked after a few more moments had passed, brushing his mouth across her cheek.
“Mmm-hmmm.” She rocked against him, ever so slightly, and his eyes damn near crossed-it felt so good.
He smiled and kissed the side of her neck.
“I wanted to do this the night we met,” he whispered against her skin, “from the minute I walked into the gallery and saw you.”
“Mmmmm.” She was still pulsing around him, soft, latent ripples.
He tightened his arms around her and buried his face in her neck, and he breathed her in, filled himself with the warm and lovely scent of her skin. “You feel so damn good.”
“Oh, Dax,” she murmured, softening against him and running her fingers up through his hair-and he kissed her, moved his mouth to hers and just played with her, sucking on her tongue, gently biting her lips, just trying to get more of her.
She was so responsive, teasing him, giving of herself-he felt it with every move she made.
Carefully, slowly, he pulled out of her, and he kissed her while he did it, softly, on her mouth, on her cheek, on the side of her neck. Then he lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed.
He wanted her naked.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Suzi felt satiated with his lovemaking, yet she knew she wanted more.
Sitting on the bed in her birthday suit, bustier on one side of her, Marcella’s skirt on the floor, she watched Dax where he was bent over her shoes, unbuckling every tiny strap.
“I could help you with your shirt,” she said. It was the only piece of clothing he still had on.
“Got it.” With her foot still in his lap, he reached up behind his neck and pulled the shirt off over his head.
He tossed it off to the side and went back to getting her out of the platform heels. The boy was concentrating on the job, his hair all tousled from her fingers, a smudge of lipstick on his cheek, his gaze intent.
God, he was beautiful, dark hair covering his chest, delineating his abs, his legs so strong and muscular, his fingers nimble.
She didn’t want to think about anything else, not about earlier, when she’d been crying in his arms, and not about the loss that would forever haunt her days, not right now. The ache was always with her. It never went completely away.
But with Dax, she had a chance for a small reprieve, and she wanted it, just a little more time with him, time to be held and cared for, and to get lost in his loving. It was crazy, something of the moment, intense and vital, sex and solace and salvation all wrapped up in Dax Killian’s arms.
The sheets were clean on his bed, and they’d pushed the blankets and covers down to the end. He had a lot of pillows, and while he worked on the tiny straps, she rested back on them.
He didn’t look up from his task, but she saw him smile, and when he got the shoes off, he lifted her leg over his shoulder and kissed the inside of her knee.
“That’s a good start,” she murmured, and he grinned wider-and then he kissed the inside of her knee again.
Inch by inch, he worked his way up her leg, stretching himself out on the bed, until his mouth was back at the hot sweet center of her desire.
She lifted her hips against him in rhythm with the forays of his tongue, and she let herself sink into the loveliness of how he made her feel.
And so it went, on and on, his mouth on her everywhere and then coming up to take her in a kiss, hot and soft and deep, claiming her as he pushed up inside her. Everywhere she held him, she could feel the sleek, powerful movements of his muscles beneath his skin.
The world disappeared, time and again, every moment in his arms drawing them closer-hot mouth, soft skin, hard body, lush breasts, the curves of her hips, the angles of his, warmth, eroticism, tenderness, falling…falling…falling into lust, into taste, and sight, and scent, and sensation.
On his next thrust, he pushed up harder into her and held himself deep, and there he stayed, his breathing slow, and even, and sure, his body like iron.
He leaned down and kissed her, a fleeting touch of his mouth.
“You’re hot, sugar,” he said, smoothing her hair back off her forehead.
They both were. There was no fan in the room, and the heat rolling up from the street was a palpable force, even at midnight. Their bodies were slick with sweat, the room like a steam bath, and he was teasing her, holding himself so still, second after endless second, until even the slightest movement nearly sent her over the edge.
“Dax… please.”
He pulled out and pushed back in so slowly, she thought she might lose her mind.
“Please…”
She strained against him, wanting him to take her there, to make her come, to give her the release he promised with every thrust.
“Please… oh, Dax.”
He leaned down and kissed her again, and his next thrust came harder, and the one after that faster, each one stoking a banked fire deep in her core, until it caught and flashed into flame.
She clung to him, riding wave after wave of pleasure, hearing him groan on top of her, a guttural sound of need and satiation that echoed in her heart.
Dax Killian had come undone, and oh, how she loved it.
Slowly, their bodies relaxed as they breathed together, still locked in each other’s arms, and dear God, he smelled good-all overheated male.
Dax Killian with the car named Charo. He was so smooth. He was so slick, such a tough piece of work on the street at sixteen, and twenty years later, that toughness had been tempered into steel. In the last six months, she’d wondered hundreds of times what might have come of them, if she hadn’t missed him that morning at Duffy’s Bar in Denver. Lord, she’d never dragged herself out of bed for a man at six o’clock in the morning-until he’d asked her to meet him for coffee.
Now she knew why she’d raced around like a maniac on less than four hours’ sleep just to see him. It wasn’t that his smile could melt bricks, or the easy confidence of his gaze. It was for this. That for whatever reason the universe worked the way it did, Dax Killian was a haven for her, a place to rest. She’d felt it instinctively then. She felt it in every cell of her body now. He was here, by her, with her, and she was safe.
She let her breath out on a soft, easy sigh, and he brought his forehead down to rest on hers.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Mmm-hmm.” She stretched beneath him, and he grinned.
“Good,” he said, resettling himself next to her and sliding his nose down the side of hers.
Oh, geez. She could get used to this. She could get used to it in a heartbeat.
Wrapping his arm around her, he slowly rolled them to their sides, and he kept her close. He stuffed a pillow under his head and one behind her back, and then he kissed her, slanting his mouth over hers and sliding his tongue in deep.
It was a hot kiss, lazy, thorough, missing nothing. Breaking off, he gently bit her lower lip, then licked her, then kissed her again, taking her mouth with his own. It wasn’t a “turn you on until I turn you inside out” kiss. It was a “hello” kiss, a “now that we’re both not so crazed maybe we can explore each other” kiss, and he was exploring her the same way she was exploring him, not just his mouth, but the taste of him, the angle of his jaw, the weight of him up against her, the hard muscles in the arm around her.
She smoothed her palm over the broad curve of his shoulder and continued upward, tunneling her fingers into his hair-and she kissed him, one long moment after another, luxuriating in the sensuality of having him naked and close, and in the comfort she felt-even the way he smelled made her feel safe.
She snuggled in closer to him and kissed his chest and breathed him in, and after a moment, she confessed.
“I’ve got a deal with Levi.”
�
��Yeah, I heard him mention that on his way out. You’re meeting him in the morning. Right?”
“Right.”
“Going after the Memphis Sphinx?”
“The one and only,” she admitted.
“But there’s a catch.”
She nodded, and he waited, smoothing his hand down over the curve of her hip and slowly back up again.
“He wants me to go upriver with Gervais to meet a man with some kind of force field or something. He says this guy was at Beranger’s earlier, and that he has the Sphinx.”
“Force field?”
“Yes.” That was a major tactical consideration, and she wasn’t surprised he’d latched on to it.
“Sounds a little sketchy,” he said.
“For a girl with nothing but a nine millimeter.”
He stretched out on his back, keeping his arm around her, and looked up at the ceiling. After a while, he seemed to come to a decision.
“If you like, I could go with you, watch your back. Take on the force field, that sort of thing.”
“Ya think?”
A brief grin flashed across his face. “Well, we’ve already got that fifty-fifty deal in place. If you trusted me, I could just go up there by myself, pick up the statue, bring it back here-piece of cake.”
A sweet offer, but it was a no-go. “Even if I had the name of the place, I wouldn’t let you go up there alone.”
“Levi didn’t tell you where you were going?”
She shook her head.
Another grin curved his mouth-the wolfish one.
“I can change that,” he said. “Come on, let’s get some food in you.”
He reached over the side of the bed and grabbed his shirt, and then, to her surprise, he turned to her and said, “Lift your arms, babe.”
She did, and he slipped the shirt over her head. Then he found her undies.
By the time he got her seated at the table, Dax was about half dressed himself and was feeling better than he had in months-six months to be exact.
This woman-she worked on him, and bedding her wasn’t even half of what he wanted.
Okay, it was half, maybe even more than half. It wasn’t negotiable. He knew that much. Taking her to bed had just shot to the number two slot on his hit parade, right after keeping her out of trouble-and he had a plan. It started with Levi Asher, and ended somewhere upriver, and when it was over, he’d tell her all about it.