Looks are Deceiving

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Looks are Deceiving Page 12

by Michele Hart


  Then he set her free to the enclosure of his arms to watch the stars spin above them.

  “Tell me more about yourself, Elissa. What takes your time? What’s important to you? What are your plans for the future?”

  She began to feel bad for her initial lies, fairly innocent and necessary at the time. She knew she didn’t want to continue lying to him, but telling the truth was a risk to her future plans of returning to this area for field work, where anonymity would enable her in the criminal world.

  Avoiding any subject of personal nature seemed safest, more so for her heart, which she now began to feel might be at risk. Her body was definitely at risk. She was sooner ready to give him her body than her heart.

  How would she shut off his questions?

  Elissa pulled him down to her and she pressed her lips to his, welcoming and encouraging his kiss, and his questions were gone forever.

  Greg took the offer with fervor. His kiss took her over, and he pressed her into him tighter, his hand on the small of her back, his other big hand mashing her to him. She could feel every hard muscle of his body tensed and solid, dissolving any remnants of resolution she might’ve had floating through her mind.

  Greg didn’t have to ask her to sleep with him with words. His kiss wiped away all restraint.

  Parting with her as if it were against his will, he tugged her over to where her feet touched, then he took lungfuls of air like he needed the oxygen to find himself again, and he set her at arm’s length, denying a promise his kiss just made.

  His eyes held a wary slant. “Elissa, it doesn’t take much for my mind to put you in my bed and beneath me.”

  “Prophet, are you?” she baited him, her eyes lingering over his broad shoulders, drinking up the energy he radiated. She considered sleeping with Greg might be a swan song, one heart-breakingly beautiful melody just before death.

  No, falling in love was a swan song. Sleeping with Greg was a fantasy becoming a yearning and heading into a genuine drive.

  Should she put a brake to it all? Whatever bubbling hypnosis flowed between them overwhelmed, changing her decisions as she watched the dance of his muscles over his big body frame.

  Elissa floated over to the stairs, scattering the sparks between them. She sat on the third step, leaned against the rest, and Greg drifted her way, making her heart pick up pace. She feared it would take little but his attention and contact to put her in his bed, her growing hunger for wanting him closer. They were caught up in a million zaps of lightning between them.

  Lightning flashed brighter, and thunder rumbled louder like the deep, throaty chastisement of God traveling across the sky. She noticed the clouds picking up pace against the moon disk, and the wind gusted a bit. It seemed like what happened in her inner world manifested all around her in her outer world.

  “A summer storm coming up,” she mumbled low like a secret, gazing toward the direction of flickering cracks in the sky, black and gray clouds racing in to block worship of the northern stars.

  “There’s more than one storm rolling in.”

  It was Hurricane Greg coming on, about to batter her barriers. And her walls were made of tissue paper. He’d spent hours half-naked in swim trunks breaking her down with soft caresses and kisses that just made her hungry for more, a low-pressure warm front taking over subliminally.

  Greg sat beside her on the steps, watching the storm closing in. In profile, he looked like a Spanish conquistador plotting the plunder of an Incan gold mine. It was a picture that hadn’t left her mind since he’d kissed her in the hallway of her apartment. He’d just taken her over, pressed her against the wall, trapped her between plaster and Greg, and he’d kissed her with little hint nor warning. The mental picture of his bliss-filled invasion stripped her mind of will.

  She didn’t want to give any man the kind of power that could redirect her goal and destination. It was up to her to make sure Greg touched nothing more than her body.

  His gaze settling back on her, he went to the wine glasses again, passed her glass to her, and lifted his in toast. “Here’s to irresistible impulses.”

  Elissa smiled over her glass of oaky red passion potion. “That’s a test of legal insanity in some states, you know.”

  He sat back down on the second step beside her and took a sip of grape. Then his eyes lingered on her legs below the water.

  “Don’t tell me, you saw it on a crime show. I understand why. All I can really think about is kissing you next. I’ll eventually, probably soon, fail in resisting the urge to kiss you again. I’ll think of touching you, and that’s all I’ll think about. Drunk with your beauty and most likely witless, I’ll find a way to touch you again, to indulge in putting my hands on the curves of your body.”

  Her smile was insuppressible along with the motion and throb he sent through her body with his voice.

  “By then, I’ll have lost control. I can’t promise to rise above my primitive instincts.” He gave her a serious pout. “I admit I’m a weak man.”

  She laughed and then felt her own baser female drives rise to give herself up to him, toss away phobic excuses in deference to his overpowering masculine lure. “There are times when weakness is so sexy.”

  Greg leaned over to her and kissed her again. His hand threaded into her hair, and she enjoyed the stroke of his fingers. He parted from her only to return the glasses to their stone perch, and tug her back into the deep water.

  He kissed her again, this time inflicting a subtle hunger she’d never felt in a man. Elissa felt electricity in his every contact. Every place he fondled starved for him to touch her there again. His mouth’s seizure of her struck waves of pleasure with his every soft petting and made her burn for more of him.

  Greg gave her up only to allow her to catch her breath.

  The lightning flashed again, much closer this time, brightening the sky and clouds to the west for lingering seconds, and thunder boomed bigger than before. It felt a little dangerous to be in the pool.

  Too soon fed on her kisses, he pulled her from his arms just far enough to look into her eyes.

  “Elissa,” he said, his voice husky, his eyes glittering from the moonlight above. “Tell me right now if I should step away from you. Run if you need to, before it’s too fun to stop.”

  She knew it was time to go home. Walk out of the pool, and head straight to her car. If she stayed, she knew she wouldn’t resist him.

  God, who could? Everything about Greg made her melt, boil, and explode.

  Couldn’t she have this one incredibly sexy part of him and still keep her mind on the prize? Wasn’t it her fault she couldn’t juggle a man and her goals at the same time? Didn’t she just need more practice at keeping a man at arm’s length from her heart?

  It wasn’t like he asked for her heart. He just wanted the loan of her body, and he did make her want him terribly with soft caresses and passionate kisses. Rushing toward that deal qualified as an irresistible impulse.

  Or was she deaf, dumb, and blind to anything but Greg when he looked into her eyes, kissed her with intent? A wicked drug, attraction was.

  Lightning struck again, a little brighter. The storm was coming their way, becoming more active than less. Elissa could feel the electricity in the air, crisping every sensation.

  Unwilling to unravel the aching tension he’d wound in her, she pulled him to her mouth this time, and she kissed him with every passionate vision she’d had of him touching her.

  Greg caught Elissa’s light touch against his chest and pressed her to his flesh, and her mere touch set him on fire to want every part of her. Her breasts grazing his chest, the softness of her pressed against his hard body drove him mad.

  What’s the point of restraint, anyway? Why wait when I know I’m going to sink myself into her luscious dessert-flavored curves with Olympic fervor?

  Greg broke their feverish kiss, released her, and taking hold of her hand, they dredged through the water and up the five steps without even bothering to blame
the storm for their exit. He tugged her through the sliding-glass door and into his bedroom, then he spun her slowly in his arms, returning his mouth and kisses to her neck until they reached his bed. She tasted delicious, toffee mixed with the scent of a woman, Elissa especially. Her moan made him grow harder. He wanted to hear Elissa call his name beyond her conscious control.

  Lightning lit the room in a flash. The moonlight beaming through the sliding glass door made her look ethereal, her pale flesh against her fiery hair. He wanted to see her hot in his bed and under him, wanted to see her paprika hair spread over his pillow, moving to the pulse of his hips into her. Right now, he just couldn’t put out another minute of slick repartee wanting her this much.

  Her sparkling, pleading blue-topaz eyes glittered with desire to fulfill. Seemed a ludicrous idea to hold back.

  He could see Elissa shivering. “Would you like to trade the wet bathing suit for a far more comfortable robe? There’s a fluffy one hung on a hook behind the bathroom door.”

  “That’s a wonderful idea,” she replied, her smile alight, and she disappeared into the bathroom hallway for the change.

  Greg had to steady himself and coach himself not to be in such a rush. Elissa deserved a soft and slow treatment, filled with more than acts of pleasure. He knew he needed more than that to make this last longer than a month.

  There was something about her that shouted at him, Pay attention. Don’t let Elissa pass by. Stop and explore her.

  The lighting from a single weak wall sconce lent a sepia glow to the room. The storm they’d escaped moved in at a fierce speed, providing a dark and provocative setting. The wind whipped against the open sliding glass door, rattling the door frame and setting the white sheers to chaos as the breeze rushed into the room. An eerie whistle accompanied the tumultuous mood.

  The storm gods were on Greg’s side tonight, providing a hot and passionate sizzle to the air, a mood laced with inflections of peril with each lightning strike, a turbulent and emotional soundtrack. He watched the wind rush through the hedges and the neighbors’ trees on either side. He didn’t think he’d ever seen a storm travel so quickly.

  Elissa came from the bathroom, wrapped in his green robe. Her paprika hair tumbled into her pretty blue eyes, then down the fleece. Shadows shifting with her every motion, she looked like a rosebud concealing delicate beauty. She was a gorgeous sight that just made him grow harder and strain to be free of his swim trunks.

  Elissa soon stood before him as he sat on his bed, magical sparks flashing in her eyes. The familiar smell of her body spray wafted around her.

  “You brought the toffee spray, you good girl. Feeling more comfortable?” he asked, enjoying her smile taking life. He reached out and caught the dangling tie of the robe and rubbed the fleece in his fingertips. The softness of the fabric was erotic. He’d not noticed that before, and would probably think of it every time he put it on from now on and remember Elissa wearing it.

  “Much. This robe smells of you,” she cooed, her lips red and swollen from his kiss, just wanting to be kissed again.

  And he planned to kiss her again several different places. Now the scent of toffee and Elissa would linger in his robe to make him hungry after every shower.

  “I was given good advice today,” Elissa said, her hands stroking the fleece against her cheek. “Penny reminded me to live.”

  Greg tugged on the robe’s tie, gently scooting her closer to him until she stood between his open knees hanging over the side of the bed. “Penny bought you the toffee spray, told you to live. Penny’s my new best friend.”

  The bottom fell out of the clouds and rain slammed into the concrete outside, filling the air with the sudden crash-and-booms of a summer storm. Lightning, sharp and close, struck, thunder snapped, and Elissa’s blue eyes glistened with every strike.

  God, he wanted her with every inch of his body. His hands sliding up her body just minutes ago made him ache to bury himself in her. “I want to help you live, Elissa.”

  A gust of air flushed through the bedroom, cooling the heat around them. He wanted her so much it hurt, and her smile granted him permission.

  She reached out to him again and brought him to her lips. Her boldness burned through his blood. He kissed her passionately, his fire revealing how much he wanted her from the moment he’d laid eyes on her, and it had only gotten worse since then. The soft intimacy of her mouth, the welcoming caress of her tongue, transformed his want of her into need for her.

  The slow upward slide of his hands beneath the robe over her soft hourglass figure sent a starving tension through his body. His thumbs grazed the sides of her breasts, and he saw her breath catch, her eyes flutter, her mouth grow more lushly red. She swayed a bit as though her head spun, and he peeled the robe from her, opening her to the caress of the breeze and to him for his entire consumption.

  His hands stroking her shoulders, he watched her pink-tipped breasts rush with her quickened breath. The shadows cast onto his bedroom wall by the moonbeams and light show danced with the rise and fall of her bosom. He loved that.

  His fingers drew around her nipple in a light caress, and they both gave small gasps at the contact. Elissa closed her eyes, her head fell back, appearing to absorb the sensation of his touch with only short clips of oxygen to comment. Ever-long in his exploration of her, his hands and eyes wandered over her flat stomach, her hips, her thighs, thighs he wanted wrapped tightly around him. He tried not to encounter the paprika triangle radiating heat and promising thrills. Not yet.

  No longer able to resist the chance to taste her, he took her nipple into his mouth, tasting the toffee, sweet burnt butter bursting onto his tongue. He endured knots of urgency to immediately plunge deep inside her. His hands slid up her arms then to her back, pressing more of her breast into his wet worship.

  Elissa’s fingers threaded into his hair and tightened, driving him to suckle her until she cried out from the pleasure. God, it was a cry he hoped never to forget.

  Lightning struck very close by, the flash very bright, the crack of thunder almost deafening.

  “If you do that much longer,” she whispered between huffs of air. “I’ll not be able to stand.”

  Greg rose from the bed, gently guided her across his mattress, and he stripped himself of his swim trunks about to rip from the pressure. Then he lay down beside her, his head propped up with his arm. His eyes took in the sight of Elissa nude and on his bed, and the anticipation of hearing his name on her lips in ecstasy drove him to the path. He couldn’t think of anything but indulging in her soft body, needing her with a full-body hunger and a raging hard-on.

  The lightning struck again, not as close, and it sent a shiver through her. He could feel the energy in the air, and he rather liked seeing her shiver. He wanted to tell her she was beautiful, but he could barely gather reign of his thoughts when looking at her, smelling, tasting her, took him into instinctive hunger.

  Stretching every minute and building her tension to a breaking point, he drew patterns over her flesh, encouraging her small titter at the tickle, and he felt the heat radiating from the apex of her thighs. His wandering fingers found themselves drawn to the heat, caressing the soft hair there. Her every catch of breath felt like applause. Just touching her so intimately sent him into a greater need.

  Greg found her tender flesh, traced her folds with a single finger to watch her moan again, then he sank his finger into her at the escort of shudder, finding her so slick and awaiting him, and so very tight.

  His touch caused her to slam her eyes shut, grasp her pillow in fists, and her cherry mouth whimpered. She felt so smooth and alive at his contact. Her soprano voice murmured his name with his stroke between the rolling thunder outside the glass doors. Seeing her response sent a rush of male possession to course through him. He wanted to wait longer, to hold back, but he couldn’t. Her every moan eroded his strength of patience.

  Greg teased her with soft caresses until he put himself between her legs, apprec
iating the silky wet flesh of her pale inner thighs. Her little, aching murmurs broke his tenuous hold, made him take her over and master the moment.

  Placing kisses all the way up her body, he slid his hard cock into her slick moist heat, her gasp of shock reverberating through his ear. The tight feel of her around him shook him hard, and he had to wrap his arms around her petite body beneath him and suffer the pleasure and hunger the long slide into her gave him.

  Elissa felt the shatter of her mind and body, felt him fill her so completely, racking her with pulses of pleasure to have him within her, a mild sting for having not given in to intimacy in years. He held her tight to him like a life raft, both of them enduring bliss flowing through them like a circuit, lightning dancing outside, the thunder shaking the house. It felt like the entire world experienced an explosion of wild energy with his orgasmic penetration.

  The sudden and hard pound of the rain was like a carnal serenade. Flashes and booms rocked the room with every strike but held no more electricity than sizzled in the room with them. She shivered from the rush of an orgasm just with his entry.

  Through the fireworks calming, she felt him kiss the flesh just below her ear, loosen his crushing embrace of her. She opened her eyes to him balanced on his elbows above her, so very handsome, his cock deep inside her still causing shivers, her lungs still starving for oxygen. The room dissolved around her.

  “Elissa....” his deep chocolate-velvet voice caressed her, moved through her tresses, “You make the toffee taste better. Are you still with me?”

  She couldn’t still the flood of her senses. Feeling him so deeply inside her, his hard weight pressed into the embrace of her thighs and arms, she lost herself first in hunger and weakness, and then in bliss and shudders. Her moan was on the edge of her lips following every gasp of air in time to his racing heart. She could feel its strong beat against her breast.

  “I’m almost here,” she breathed above a whisper, stars twinkling the way they did in cartoons, snaps of light twinkled, danced, then dissipated.

 

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