Set the Dark on Fire

by Jill Sorenson

  She was as close to him as a lover, and her body knew it. With her leg resting on his hip, her breasts touching his chest, and her arms around his neck, it was an explicit embrace. His hard thigh was snuggled right up to her crotch. Her lips were just inches from the pulse point in his throat. Through half-lidded eyes, she watched it throb.

  He smelled smoky and musky and hot. Her mouth watered to taste him.

  The remnants of her nightmare faded away, unable to compete with the sensory overload she was experiencing here and now. Her body swelled with longing and her skin tingled for his touch. On some level, she knew he wanted nothing to do with her emotionally. He didn’t even want to desire her physically. He seemed to think she was beneath him.

  In that moment, it was exactly where she wanted to be.

  Trembling, she leaned forward and placed her open mouth on his neck, touching her tongue to that pulsing vein, tasting the evidence of his desire. He drew in a sharp breath and tightened his hand around her upper arm, pushing her back.

  At first she thought he was going to get up and leave her. She didn’t have to look down to know he was aroused; she could feel the heat of him, see the proof in his glittering eyes and taut face. But unlike other men of her acquaintance, he didn’t let his body govern his actions, and he’d walked away from her sporting an erection before.

  She wasn’t sure why he stayed, but when he threw back the blanket and feasted his eyes on her near-naked form, she knew he wasn’t going to walk away. With the absence of his warmth and the rush of cool night air, she was aware of every inch of her skin, every part of her body. Her bra and underwear weren’t quite dry, and neither were his wool-blend pants. She could feel the damp heat against her inner thigh.

  His gaze raked over her like a caress.

  She was conscious of his eyes on her mouth and her barely covered breasts, the slight curve of her tummy and not-so-slight curve of her hips. As always, her stiff nipples were tenting the thin cotton of her bra, begging for his touch. It was kind of embarrassing how prominent they were, considering the size of her breasts.

  “Do your nipples ever relax?” he rasped, staring at them.

  She moistened her lips, tasting the salt of his skin there. “Um … yes.”

  “When?”

  “I’ll let you know.”

  He smoothed his palm over the dip of her waist, and her entire body flexed. She clenched her hands into fists, fighting the urge to tilt her hips forward and ride his thigh. Avoiding her straining nipples, he traced the upper edge of her bra with his fingertip and paused at the tiny clasp between her breasts. Instead of releasing it, he moved on, dragging his thumb down her middle, burning a hot trail all the way to the front of her panties. When he reached the apex of her thighs, his eyes met hers, and her tummy jumped.

  He may not have recognized a yoni when he saw one, but he knew his way around the real thing well enough. His fingertips grazed the plump lips of her sex and slid along the crease. She was so swollen and sensitive, if he used any more pressure, she would come.

  And he hadn’t even kissed her.

  Shay realized she was lying there, acquiescent, letting him call the shots. She was enjoying what he was doing, of course, but she’d never been shy about being an active participant in sex. Stranger still, she didn’t want foreplay She wanted his tongue in her mouth and his body over hers. She wanted his penetration, his climax, his control.

  With trembling hands, she reached up and undid the front clasp of her bra, exposing her breasts. His eyes darkened in the flickering light, but she wasn’t done. Hooking her thumbs in the waistband of her panties, she pushed them down her hips and off her legs, moving carefully over her bandaged knee.

  He swallowed convulsively, drinking in the sight of her naked body and appearing far from unaffected by the view. When she propped her knee back up on his hip, his eyes widened and his nostrils flared. He wrapped his hands around her waist and dipped his head to sample the wares, but she flattened her palms against his chest, denying him.

  He frowned, disliking the shift in power.

  Using a light touch, she raked her nails down his belly. His stomach muscles tightened and his jaw clenched. With one hand, she went to work on his belt buckle, anticipating his reaction.

  Sure enough, he clamped his fingers around her wrist. “Not yet.”

  Ignoring his protest, she slid her other hand along the length of his arousal. His eyes lost focus and his grip went slack. Smiling at the predictable male weakness, she unzipped his fly and reached inside, finding only him.

  Luke Meza was going commando? Sometime during the night, he must have laid his shorts out to dry.

  He hissed out a breath as she wrapped her fingers around the heat of his erection, and she was unable to stifle her own tiny gasp. He felt … very impressive.

  He looked down at himself in her hand, and she looked, too, experiencing a hot thrill at the thought of him inside her. His body was so beautiful, so rock hard and marble smooth, she wanted to lick every inch of him. In lieu of that, she wet the pad of her thumb and brushed it over the tip of his penis, making his body jerk, shocking him with her audacity.

  She shocked herself, too. Active participant or not, it had never occurred to her to do anything like that before.

  Groaning, he pulled her hands away from his groin and pushed them over her head, trapping her wrists as he lowered his mouth to hers. This kiss was nothing like the whisper-soft caress they’d shared before. It was a total possession.

  He didn’t linger on the seam of her lips, or take it slow and easy, or maintain a polite distance. He thrust his tongue inside her mouth and pinned her underneath him, rocking his hips against hers. Sparks of pleasure shot through her. She kissed him back with equal fervor, making urgent sounds in the back of her throat and curling her tongue around his.

  His mouth was hot and his sex was hard and she was wet. The ridge of his erection slid up and down along her slippery cleft, creating a delicious friction. It was so good she almost couldn’t stand it. At the same time, she wanted more. She wanted everything. She squirmed, trying to free her hands from his hold so she could take what she needed.

  He lifted his head and stared down at her, breathing hard. “I don’t have a condom.”

  Those words should have brought the progress to a grinding halt. In some corner of her mind, she knew this was madness. And yet, if he didn’t come into her now, she would die. “I don’t care,” she heard herself say.

  It was all the encouragement he needed. He shifted, releasing her wrists and positioning the blunt head of his erection at her body’s opening. Panting, she splayed her hands over his shoulders and spread her legs wide, urging him on.

  He pushed forward, using none of the delicacy he’d employed during their first kiss. Even so, the quick flash of pain startled her, because she was more than ready.

  He stopped, feeling her tense. “Is it your knee?”

  Knee? What knee? She bit down on her lower lip and shook her head.

  Frowning, he moved his right hand down to her injured knee, lifting it higher. She felt him slide into her deeper and moaned. The muscles in his back bunched beneath her palms. He stroked his way back up her thigh, making her body twitch with pleasure, and settled his mouth on her left breast. He flicked his tongue over one aching nipple, then the other, leaving them both rosy and wet.

  Shay gasped at the contrast between his hot mouth and the cool air, feeling as though she might fly apart. Moisture pooled between her legs, easing his way. With a low growl, he lifted his head and pushed forward again, filling her completely.

  From there on out, separating one exquisite sensation from another became an impossible task. Every thrust made her moan, every drag made her shudder. Coherent thought was beyond her, but she did realize it had never been like this for her before. She’d always preferred kissing and touching to actual intercourse. What Luke was doing to her blew every other encounter she’d had out of the water.

  A
nother wave of pleasure crashed over her, promising the ultimate rapture. She clung to his shoulders, scarcely able to believe how good it felt.

  His body froze and he pulled back, trying to move away from her.

  Sobbing a protest, she tightened her legs around him and sank her fingernails into his back, straining for completion. He couldn’t leave her now, she was so close, and it had never happened this way for her before …

  She cried out, falling over the edge. Her legs quivered and her back arched and her inner muscles squeezed him hard. He buried his face in her neck and groaned, his entire body quaking with the power of his own release.

  Her very first thought, after the sensual fog lifted, was …

  Oops.

  Luke’s initial reaction wasn’t panic, but smug male satisfaction; his first instinct, not to flee, but to sleep.

  He’d committed the stupidest, most irresponsible act of his life, and he wanted nothing more than to fall upon her and snore. If she hadn’t tapped on his shoulder and told him to get off her, he would have done just that.

  More clearheaded than he was, she left the cave to relieve herself. Like a horny, lunkheaded fool, he watched her go, admiring her shapely bottom as she disappeared into the moonlight and experiencing a second, equally idiotic reaction: renewed arousal. With his pants pushed down his thighs, he was aware of the night air on his rapidly cooling, still-damp body. His cock sprang up hard, ready to get warm again.

  Then he heard her splashing water in the dark, washing away his semen, and reality came crashing down around him.

  Sleeping with her was a mistake. Not taking the necessary precautions, a disaster.

  What the hell was he thinking? He knew better than to have unprotected sex. He’d never been this reckless, not even when he was eighteen. Las Vegas was a great place to catch an STD, so Luke had always been careful, always responsible, and always polite.

  Another thought occurred to him, one more frightening than the last. She had to be on some kind of birth control. Didn’t she?

  He scrambled to his feet and yanked his pants up his hips, working his zipper over his flagging erection. She came back into view, her eyes cool, unsurprised by what must have been an expression of dismay on his face.

  Saying nothing, she searched the blanket for her underwear. Luke knew a moment of distraction, because her naked body was … achingly lovely.

  He cleared his throat. “You’re on birth control, right?”

  “Wrong.”

  The air rushed out of his lungs. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “You didn’t ask.”

  “I didn’t ask?” he repeated, dumbfounded. “What the hell did you think I meant when I said I didn’t have a condom?”

  Her pretty mouth twisted with annoyance, but she made no reply.

  “You let me come in you,” he said, incredulous. “I was going to pull out, and you …” He trailed off, needing no explanation for why she’d held him close. Her orgasm had been explosive.

  “I what? Forced you to stay in me?” Securing her bra and panties, she wrapped the blanket around her body like armor. “You’re stronger than I am, Luke. If you wanted to pull away, you could have pulled away.”

  Luke clenched his hands into fists. He could still feel her nails digging furrows into his back, her long legs wrapped around him like a vice, and the delicious clasp of her body. Sure, he could have pulled away. He could have spilled on her soft little belly or on the ground, and in doing so completely ruined the moment for her.

  She turned over, facing the cave wall and shutting him out.

  A maelstrom of emotions raged inside him. He raked a hand through his hair and closed his eyes, cursing himself for a fool. He couldn’t believe he’d been so careless. And he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so undone by a woman.

  Actually, he could. He just didn’t want to.

  Living in Vegas had caused him to tire of hedonism early, and the seedy atmosphere had definitely affected his dealings with the opposite sex. In a town full of scantily clad women looking for a wild time, it was wise to exercise caution. Luke had been too staid, perhaps, but he’d never been a saint. The moment he laid eyes on Leticia Nuñez, he’d wanted her.

  It was lust at first sight.

  She’d been sitting at an outdoor café, sipping iced coffee and reading a book, her black hair in a sleek knot at the nape of her neck, a pair of square-framed glasses on her adorable nose. Her legs were crossed prettily, showcased by a slim pencil skirt, the fullness of her breasts apparent beneath a prim white blouse. The fantasy was carefully crafted, a sexy librarian no man could resist, and he’d fallen for it hook, line, and sinker.

  God, she’d been beautiful. And he’d been criminally naïve.

  Another image flashed into his mind, one far less pleasing to the eye. The last time he’d seen her, she’d been lying cold and dead on an examination table, her face almost as gray as the stainless steel beneath her, all of those curves he’d worshipped a distant memory, her body as sunken as her hollowed cheeks.

  Would things have turned out differently if their relationship had been fueled by something less volatile than passion? He’d always thought so. And he’d never dated a woman based solely on sexual attraction again.

  Until now. Although what he’d just done with Shay could hardly be called a date.

  Stifling a groan, he sat down at the edge of the cave and watched the dawn creep over the horizon, as raw and pink as a fresh-knit scar. Using protection was his responsibility, and despite the miscommunication, he was angrier with himself than with her. He shouldn’t have started touching her in the first place. He hadn’t intended to take it so far.

  Upon further deliberation, he’d taken advantage of her. She was in shock. She was injured. She was vulnerable. The post-coital interrogation hadn’t been well done, either. Safe sex was a topic to be discussed before the deed, not after.

  Luke was a man who was always accountable for his actions. He seldom acted on impulse and entertained very few regrets. But he’d done Shay a great disservice, from that inexplicable kiss in the camouflaged shelter to his startling lapse of judgment at the, ah, culmination of their encounter, and he owed her an apology.

  Feeling nauseous at the prospect, he hazarded a glance at her. Unlike him, she appeared to be resting comfortably, unmolested by second thoughts. In the hazy dawn light, he could see the outline of her body beneath the blanket, the sweet curve of her waist and the enticing swell of her hip. Her hair was a mass of rumpled blond silk; the cat’s paw on the back of her neck visible through the tangled strands.

  Incredibly, he still wanted her.

  He wanted to brush aside that soft hair and press his lips to her neck, to peel away the wool blanket and bury himself in her warmth. He’d made a mistake in sleeping with her, but Christ, what he would give to do it again. Really, he hadn’t done a thorough job the first time. He’d barely whetted his appetite.

  He forced his gaze away from her, focusing instead on the wall carvings above her head. Now the artwork mocked him with its blatancy, the lips of a woman’s sex so obvious he felt like a damned fool.

  Plagued by self-loathing, he lurched to his feet. What a place to slip up. The only time he’d failed to use protection in his entire life, and he was in a fucking fertility shrine.

  With jerky, frustrated movements, he pulled on his shirt, which was no longer wet but reeked of smoke. His shorts and socks were also dry, so he put them back on, along with his damp boots. When he opened the pop-top on a small can of peaches, Shay stirred.

  He shoved the can at her. “Here,” he said, more gruffly than he’d intended.

  She rubbed her puffy eyes but took the can and started eating peach slices with her bare hands, as raw and sensual and unaffected as ever.

  “How’s your knee?”

  She swallowed a mouthful. “Better.”

  “Can you hike?”

  Under the blanket, she stretched her legs. “I think so.�
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  He rummaged through the pack, looking for his cell phone. It was still dead.

  “Don’t you want any?” she asked, clutching a piece of golden fruit between slippery fingers.

  He thought about all the ways he’d wanted to touch her last night but hadn’t. “No.”

  With a shrug, she finished the contents of the can, upending it and drinking the juice. “What about that last power bar?”

  He tossed it at her. “It’s yours.”

  Instead of eating it, she held the bar in her hand, a crease forming between her brows. He supposed she was planning to save it for later, which was a good idea. They were miles from civilization, and he didn’t want her getting weak or falling down on him again.

  After a moment, he realized she was waiting for him to avert his eyes so she could get out from underneath the blanket. Was this the same woman who’d walked around buck naked in the moonlight? “Let me see your knee,” he said.

  Wearing a defiant expression, she stuck out her injured knee, keeping her torso demurely covered. He knelt down beside her and unwrapped the bandage, trying to ignore the way her skin felt and looked, like cream-colored silk against his dark hand.

  She had a nasty purple bruise but the swelling was down. During his years at UNLV, Luke had ruptured his ACL, so he knew what a more serious injury looked like. “Good,” he said, winding the bandage back up tight.

  “Thanks, Doc,” she said lightly. Her eyes burned into his, communicating something far less congenial than gratitude.

  Jaw tightening, he stood and gave her his back, allowing her some privacy to get dressed. Feeling a pang that had nothing to do with hunger, he released a slow breath, knowing what he had to do. Putting it off would only prolong the inevitable.

  “About last night …” he began, wincing at the tired old cliché.