Up In Flames: Body HeatCaught in the Act

by Lori Foster

“The only thing is that now I feel empty.” She flattened her hands on his chest and stared up at him. “I meant it when I said I want you inside me.”

  Holding her gaze, he slid his hand down her belly. “My fingers would probably do,” he said, and matching actions to words, he pressed two fingers deep inside her.

  “Oh, God.” Still sensitive from her climax, she dropped her head forward and curled her hands, clutching at him. They both breathed hard. “That’s...that’s wonderful,” she whispered, delighting him with her honesty, her openness.

  Her hand moved down his body and curled around his hard-on.

  Mick had to fight to keep from coming the second she touched him. He felt primed to the max, and her hand was so soft and feminine. “Delilah,” he warned, closing both hands around her shoulders.

  “This,” she whispered in a sultry voice that coasted over him like rough velvet, “will feel even better.”

  He had to laugh, though it sounded more like an agonized groan.

  She released him, patted his butt and said, “Now quit trying to distract me.” Taking his hand again, she led him toward the kitchen, where she kept the pain pills. “I have the feeling you like to control everyone and everything, but I’ve been on my own too long for that nonsense.”

  She wasn’t looking at him, so it felt safe to smile. She was the most endearing woman he’d ever met.

  Her insight was also uncanny. It was true he liked to have control, but more than that was the fact he wanted to take care of her, protect her. He’d never even come close to feeling that with any woman other than Angel, and then it had been a clear-cut feeling. They’d both been going through bad times and had quickly learned to trust each other, to help each other. They were friends and there’d been no confusing possessiveness or lust or this irrational need to make her a part of him, to somehow meld her body and soul with his own.

  He loved Angel, just as he loved Dane and their children, and by extension Alec and Celia and Tucker. He’d protect any one of them with his life, but that instinct had never been put to the test. Dane and Alec were more than capable of taking care of their own, so Mick’s sense of protectiveness was blunted by their presence.

  Not so with Delilah. There was nothing and no one to soften the raw edge of volatile emotions consuming him.

  He knew it was too much, too strong and overwhelming. It put him at risk, a risk he’d never faced before because he’d never met a woman who hit him so hard on a gut level.

  He had absolutely no idea how to deal with her.

  She stopped beside the kitchen counter, unmindful of her nudity, although Mick relished the sight of her under the bright fluorescent lights. While she filled a glass with water, he looked her over. Her shiny dark hair was mussed, half hanging over her brow, framing those incredible, bright blue eyes. Her lips were still slightly reddened from her climax, her cheeks still flushed.

  Her nipples still tight.

  He sucked in a breath and accepted the pill she handed him, tossing it back and washing it down with the entire glass of cold water. Delilah stepped behind him and peered at his shoulder.

  “I think we should change the bandage.”

  He didn’t want her taking care of him, and turned to face her. “It’s fine.”

  She propped her hands on her slim hips and frowned up at him. He’d never had a naked woman remonstrate with him before. It put a new slant on things.

  “I’m changing your bandage, Mick.” When he started to speak, she interrupted, saying, “It’s early yet and I have a feeling you won’t be falling asleep despite the pain pill.”

  “God, I hope not.” He still smarted over the fact that he’d fallen asleep on her earlier.

  “Then that means, being as you’re so determined and you refuse to listen to common sense or a doctor’s orders, we’ll be making love for some time yet. You need to be comfortable and relaxed so that you don’t hurt yourself.”

  He gave her a lazy smile, eyeing the glossy dark curls over her mound and the long length of her legs, now braced apart as if for battle. “Relaxed, huh? You think your lovemaking is so boring I’ll be able to just sit back and yawn?”

  Her eyes got heavy, her smile wicked. “I think you need to let me handle things. It’ll be a novel experience for you. I’ll be gentle...but thorough. I promise.”

  He must be getting used to her, Mick thought, because her boldness didn’t shock him at all, it just fired his lust. He shook his head, but heard himself say, “All right.”

  Her soft smile broke into a triumphant grin and she turned, giving him a view of her saucy behind as she marched away. Crooking one finger, she called back to him, “Come along, now. I’ll see to everything.”

  He was in so deep he could barely breathe, and strangely enough, he didn’t give a damn. Everything would work out, he’d see to it.

  Later.

  * * *

  Del couldn’t remember ever having so much fun. Mick was astounding, giving over to her and trusting her. At least as far as his body was concerned. His thoughts were still a secret, but she understood that. Her life wasn’t one she openly discussed, either. Not that it had been bad, only that it had been different, and not many people understood her or her choices.

  At the moment, she had Mick stretched out on his back, a pillow cushioning his head, his shoulder freshly bandaged. Together they had showered, touching and teasing anew, then taking turns drying each other. While she’d brushed her teeth, he’d commented on her body, complimenting her in the most outrageous ways.

  She returned the favor, savoring the sight of him naked at her sink, his razor and aftershave there as if they’d always been a part of her home, as if they, as well as he, belonged with her.

  He had an incredible physique, tall and strong and wholly masculine. While he brushed his teeth with amazing dexterity, considering he used his left hand, she watched the play of muscles in his shoulders and biceps. Still damp from the shower, his dark hair clung in curls to his nape and temples. Her blood raced at the beauty of him.

  There wasn’t a single flaw to his body—except for that obscene bullet wound.

  Her heart nearly broke at the sight of it, and without thinking, she’d moved to kiss him above and below his stitches, where dark bruises marred his olive skin.

  His groan, one of mingled awareness and physical pleasure, encouraged her. He’d braced his hands on the sink and allowed her to do as she pleased—and she pleased quite a bit.

  After that, she’d spent a good fifteen minutes just touching him, caressing his aching muscles and hopefully massaging away some of the pain and stiffness from the injury.

  Even with his head dropped forward and his body totally relaxed, Mick still looked so powerful, so strong and capable. It made her stomach jumpy to know he wanted her, desired her.

  Had nearly died for her.

  He grew impatient with the subtle touches and teased, “Is it your plan to taunt me all night? Because I’m a hair away from taking control again.”

  She laughed at him, then squealed as he hurried her to the bed. She had to regain the upper hand so he didn’t do more damage to his injury, and it took her several minutes to convince him that she needed to wrap his shoulder again.

  He’d finally given in, but only because she let him touch her anywhere he wanted while she saw to that chore. It was apparent that, even though she lacked his physical beauty, Mick felt the same fascination for her body that she felt for his.

  Now he reclined in her bed, his eyes dark and hot, watching her as she leaned over to the nightstand and withdrew a condom.

  “I hate to sound unsophisticated,” she said, “but I’ve never put a rubber on a guy before. Tell me if I do it wrong.”

  He didn’t reply, merely watched her as she tore the small package open and reached for him. She felt the
subtle clenching of his muscles, the heat rising off him in waves. She glanced at his jaw and found it locked hard.

  “Like this, right?” she asked, knowing she was pushing him, and enjoying it.

  “Good enough,” he growled, and his abdomen tensed as she slid the condom over the head of his penis and then midway down its length.

  Del surveyed her handiwork. “Not bad,” she announced, trying to drag out the anticipation as long as she could. It wasn’t easy; already her hands were shaking and a weakness seemed to have invaded her bones. Mick was thick and hot and silky in her hand.

  “I’ve always been really careful,” she whispered, trying to regain lost control, “about protection. Not that I’d mind having children someday, but not until I meet the right man.”

  His body taut and expectant, Mick rasped, “I want kids someday, too.”

  Del soothed him, stroking his right arm, his chest and shoulders. She met his smoldering gaze and asked, “With the right woman?”

  “Yes.”

  Sliding her leg over his hips, she positioned herself. “Well, this woman is going to make you crazy with pleasure tonight.”

  His back arched. “I’ll get my turn,” he told her.

  She laughed. “Not until the doctor says you’re able.” Slowly, so slowly every nerve ending sparked, she lowered herself. He’d barely penetrated at all, just the thick head of his penis inside her, her inner muscles gripping and quivering around him, when she stopped with a gasp. “It’s...it’s been so long for me,” she muttered, trying to explain, her words broken and breathless and fast. Already she felt stretched, uncomfortably tight, yet tantalized. “I’m...I’m not at all sure.”

  Mick strained beneath her, sweat dampening his forehead, his chest. Delilah knew she couldn’t wait any longer or he’d hurt himself. Swallowing back her own discomfort and uncertainty, she braced her hands on his chest, drew a deep breath and pressed down until he was fully, completely inside her.

  An explosive curse broke from Mick. She whimpered in response. For long moments, neither of them moved except for a slight trembling of rigid muscles and a spontaneous flexing of sexes as they each struggled to adjust.

  Forcing her head up, Delilah looked at Mick through a sweltering haze of sensations. “Are you...all right?”

  “No.” His left hand lifted, spread wide over her hip. “I need you to move, baby.”

  Del licked her lips. “It’s just that you’re...bigger than I thought.”

  Without his permission, his hips rose, pressing into her, deepening his penetration. “I can’t do this,” he groaned.

  And Delilah’s heart tumbled over.

  “Mick.” Leaning down, she kissed his mouth, his throat, licked at his salty skin. Very gently, subtly, she rocked her hips. His fingers contracted on her flesh, biting hard as he urged her to continue.

  She slid up, her wetness making it easy and smooth, then all the way down again, harder and faster with each turn. Suddenly, despite his injury, Mick gripped her hips in both hands and pumped into her, holding her tight to him, not letting her retreat. He looked feral and explosive and so sexy she felt her own climax begin.

  This was what she’d wanted, him filling her, his body a part of hers, wild and real with no reserve between them. She tipped her head back and cried out her pleasure, then heard Mick’s answering moan of completion.

  A few seconds later his fingers went lax and she lowered herself to nestle against him. He grunted, and she mumbled, “Did I hurt you?”

  It took him a little while to answer, but she didn’t mind. She felt the bellowing of his chest beneath her ear, felt his sex still deep within her. “Mick?”

  Using his left hand, he smoothed her bottom. “I’m feeling no pain. Even my brain is numb.”

  She didn’t want to, but she raised herself to her elbows. “Will it hurt you if I sleep here with you?”

  His dark eyes opened. “It’d kill me,” he said huskily, “if you didn’t.”

  Tears clung to her lashes. She hurried to blink them away and sat up more. After a deep, calming breath that helped to chase away the excess emotion, she said, “I’m ready for bed. You?”

  The way he looked at her told her she hadn’t fooled him one bit. He knew she was mired in sentiment, that making love with him had thrown her for a loop. She’d had sex in the past, but this wasn’t sex. This was... She wasn’t sure what to call it. Sex had been easy to give up, but she couldn’t imagine giving up Mick.

  More tears clouded her vision, but he didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he looked...satisfied.

  Del snorted at herself as she swiped at her eyes. He’d come, so of course he was satisfied. “I’ll just get rid of the condom and turn on the air conditioner and—”

  Mick moved out of her reach. “I can take care of myself, thank you, and I’ll set the air conditioner. I’d like to wake up without hypothermia.”

  “I set it too cold?” She watched him climb from the bed, and was gratified to see he shook just a bit, too.

  He stood in front of her and touched her chin. There was a silly smile on his face, in contrast to the male triumph in his dark gaze. “Yeah. You set it too cold,” he agreed. “I’m a man, not a polar bear.”

  Then he went down the hall to the bathroom. Del stood there, bemused, until she heard the water turn off and the toilet flush.

  She rushed to straighten the bedclothes and reposition Mick’s pillow. She’d sleep on his left side, to keep from injuring his shoulder, she decided.

  He walked into her room, as comfortable with his nudity as she was. After setting the air conditioner a tiny bit higher, he got into bed as if sleeping with her were nothing. She wasn’t sure if she liked that or not, considering it seemed like a very big something to her. But then he turned off the light and settled back, and when she crawled in next to him, he put his arm around her, drawing her close. The darkness added a new level of intimacy, filling her with contentment.

  Her mind peaceful, her body sated, she kissed his chest and asked, “Will you tell me if you get uncomfortable during the night?”

  “No.” She pushed up to frown at him, but he only laughed and pressed her face back to his chest. “Shh. Go to sleep, Delilah. You’ve worn me out and I need to recoup so I can get even tomorrow morning.”

  Feeling smug, she said, “You’ll have to wait to even the score. I have to go out in the morning.”

  His arm tightened. “Where to?”

  “Neddie’s funeral is tomorrow.”

  “Neddie?”

  Because she’d already told Mick all about him, she sighed. “Neddie Moran, the man who helped me with my research.”

  A volatile silence followed her statement, then seemed to detonate. Mick turned, pinning her beneath him in one hard, fast movement, his expression furious. “Neddie Moran is the criminal who taught you how to steal cars?”

  Watching him warily, she said, “Yeah, so?” He’d sounded ready to fall asleep one moment, then outraged the next. “Mick, you’re going to hurt your arm.”

  For some reason, he looked astounded that she would even mention his arm. He jerked around and flipped the light back on. “Forget the morning. We’ve got to do some talking right now.”

  “We do?” Del scooted up in the bed and pulled the sheet over her breasts.

  “Damn right we do. Do you know how Neddie Moran died?”

  “He drowned.”

  “He didn’t just drown. Someone else drowned him.” Mick drew a breath. “Sweetheart, he was murdered.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Mick awoke to an empty bed. Again.

  This time, in light of everything he now knew, fear hit him before anything else. He glanced at the bedside clock. Three-thirty. They’d finished their talk almost four hours ago. Where the hell was she in the middle o
f the night?

  He was out of the bed and heading for the door on silent feet before he’d even given himself time to think about it. The reality of her association with known criminals had his skin prickling with unease, his every sense on alert.

  She saw no connection between Neddie’s recent death and her own very near escape from death.

  Mick, however, was positive that the two events were in some way related. She’d associated with Moran, formed a strange friendship even, and now the man was dead. It had been tricky, telling her what he knew of Moran’s death without telling her how he knew, or giving away confidential information. The death was still under investigation, but thanks to reporters, it was public knowledge that Neddie had been drowned in the river, so Mick had no problem sharing those details.

  Not that they’d swayed her. The most he’d been able to get out of her was a promise that she’d let him escort her to the funeral. Mick planned to avoid even that, using a deception to keep her away, while he had men checking into any possible associations between Neddie and the robbers at the jewelry store. He didn’t like himself for it, but he felt it necessary to protect her.

  Hours of talking to her had proved that reason and logic wouldn’t work. Not with Delilah Piper, and definitely not when she felt an obligation to a friend.

  Mick went only a few steps down the hallway before he saw the dim blue light of her computer shining in the otherwise dark apartment. He heard the light tapping of her fingers on the keyboard, and peered around the hallway corner.

  Sitting there in front of her computer, her glossy hair mussed, a T-shirt her only clothing, Delilah looked totally absorbed in her writing. Mick leaned against the wall and watched her, aware of a strange twisting in his heart.

  Never had he allowed himself to consider hearth and home and a family of his own. He’d become so discriminating with women, so particular, that he’d doubted any woman would have ever appealed to him on that level.

  But standing in a dark hallway looking at Delilah, he felt a contentment unlike anything he’d ever known. She was a woman of constant change and contradictions. She made him hot with her careless, comfortable air, and she kept his emotions turbulent with her daring and her stubbornness. And now that he’d laughed and argued and made love with her, he couldn’t imagine not having her in his life.