by Wendy Stone
“Do you need help?”
Terry shrieked, losing her balance. She would have fallen but for the amazingly quick reflexes of the man. He caught her in one arm, righting her and keeping her pressed against his side.
“Are you always this clumsy?” he asked, his voice a deep rumble that tickled into her chest.
“Only since I met you,” she grimaced. Her body was singing. She was pressed up against every hard angle and—gulp—huge bulge the man possessed. “You can let me go now,” she said softly, unable to look into his face.
“Maybe I don’t want to,” He set the first aid kit down on the desk so that he could hold her with the other hand as well. “Maybe I want to remember how great last night was. Maybe I want to do it again, this time in person.”
“It wasn’t real? Is that what you’re telling me?” she shrieked, struggling in his arms. He held her easily, his strength more than she could believe.
“It was a melding of our dreams,” he whispered seductively into her ear, his nose nuzzling in her hair as he breathed in her scent. “You smell like vanilla.”
“I-It’s m-my shampoo,” she stuttered, trying to resist the animal magnetism he exuded. But when his lips touched her throat, slowly moving over her skin until he could finally lick at the pulse that fluttered at the base of her neck, she was lost. Her head fell back, her hair covering his hands that held her against him. She moaned softly, hating herself for capitulating so easily. “I-I don’t want this.”
He raised his head, nostrils flaring as he scented the air. “You lie,” he growled, a grin tipping up his sexy lips. “I can smell your musk in the air. You’re wet.”
“I am not,” she argued, knowing it was a lie. She’d been getting more aroused every second in his presence. She knew that under her skirt, the small icy-blue thong would be growing dark with her juices. “I hate you and everything that has to do with you.”
Nashe stared down at her, studying the set of her chin, the look in her eyes. He took a small step away and she swayed toward him, making him smile. “Yeah, sure, I can tell you just hate me so much. You’d love me to throw you back on the desk and pull off whatever sexy pair of panties you’ve got on under that skirt. You’d love for me to bury my face in that small patch of blonde fur you’ve got between your thighs. Tell the truth now, Terry. You’d be grabbing the back of my head and smothering me in your little pussy, wouldn’t you?”
God! She would. The realization had her staring up at him helplessly. How could this man, this animal, make her feel more in a single moment than any man that she’d been with her entire life? He treated her with such disdain, his words harsh and sarcastic, his attitude towards her one of contempt and condescension. He was an arrogant, egotistical, sub-human jerk and she wanted him to fuck her with every fiber of her being.
She took a step forward, forgetting the pain in her ankle until it folded under her, making her cry out.
Nashe grabbed her, pulling her back up into his arms and gently depositing her on top of the desk again. He’d forgotten all about her injuries in his desire to prove her wrong. How could he have been so cruel? He hated to see anything hurt, unless that thing had done harm to others. Then he would hunt it down, kill it and forget it.
“Hold still,” he told her, his hands gentle as they moved over her knee. Without saying another word to her, he reached over to the phone and barked some orders into it. Someone came to the door almost instantly.
A young man dressed in the black shirt and pants that the waiters wore carried in a bowl of water and some cloths, setting them on the floor where Nashe pointed. “Thanks, Keith. Tell Sam we don’t want to be disturbed. She’s got the kitchen until prep for dinner.”
“This might hurt a little,” he said, looking up from where he knelt in front of her. He took a cloth and soaked it in the hot water, ringing it out before placing it over her knee. Then he opened up the first aid kit and pulled out a cold pack, slamming it with his fist and shaking it before laying it over the ankle that he held in his lap.
Terry hissed, not in pain but at the difference in sensations on her aroused skin. She couldn’t take her eyes off of him, watching his every move with a hungry gaze. “I don’t understand this. You annoy the hell out of me. I can’t stand you.”
“But you want me.” His hands gently eased down the nylon that covered her wound.
“Yes,” she breathed. “If it’s anything like last night, like in that dream…”
He smiled, his green eyes growing hot. “We’ll burn up the sheets.”
Her heart thumped at the way his smile seemed to draw her in. He was too handsome, green eyes brilliant in his tanned face, white teeth flashing and a dimple showing in one cheek. The gray in his hair gave him a distinguished look, though that disappeared when he winked at her, his hand moving over her thigh. He left a trail of heat on her skin, sending a shiver of want that made her squirm.
He finished pulling the hose off of her leg, replacing the ice pack on her ankle. Dipping the cloth back into the water, he cleaned up her knee, smearing a bit of antibiotic cream and bandaging it. Then, looking into her eyes, he leaned forward, slowly dipping his head and gently kissing her knee just above the bandage. “All better?”
Terry closed her eyes against that charismatic smile. “You are so…”
“Sweet? Manly? Amazing?”
“Irritating,” she growled.
Nashe threw his head back and laughed, surprising her. “It’s so nice to hear a woman speak her mind.”
That deep chuckle sent another thrill through her but his words, spoken so condescendingly, had her ire rising. “This is why I don’t like you,” she snapped. “You’re arrogant and patronizing.” She tried to pull her leg out of his grip but he held on, winding an ACE bandage around her ankle and over her foot. “Let me go!”
“Babe, you might want to wait until I finish with this.” He took his time, holding her still despite her struggles. “You try stepping on this ankle right now, you’re just going to pitch forward on your pretty little nose.”
She ground her teeth and waited while he took his time, wrapping her ankle and then holding her foot in his big, warm hands.
“How does that feel?”
“Do you really want to know?” she growled. “If you could just call a cab for me, I’ll get out of here.”
“Honey, it’s the lunch time rush. You’ll be lucky to get a cab here in the next hour.” He stood, unconsciously reaching out and snaring one long tress of silky blonde hair. He rubbed it between his fingers, stroking it with his thumb. “Of course, if you want to sit in here and put your foot up for a little while, I might be talked into fixing you some lunch.”
“I don’t have time. I have to go back to work.” She brushed her hair back, pulling the strand he’d been playing with out of his hand. Standing slowly, she tried to put weight on her foot, gasping as the pain shot through her leg. “Oh!”
“How do you think you’re going to work?” he asked, shaking his head at her stubbornness.
“I don’t have much of a choice. Some of us weren’t born with silver spoons stuck up our …”
“Whoa, babe! You might want to watch what you say. I’ve worked hard for everything I’ve ever gotten.” He slammed his mouth closed, as if sorry for admitting that.
“Whatever,” he finally said. He threw away the bloody cloth and the remnants of his doctoring attempts.
Terry took one look at his stiff back and she could feel almost the anger emanating from him. She took a deep breath, holding it and setting her foot back down on the floor. No sound came from her as the pain hit again and she limped forward. She was almost to the door, desperately trying to ignore the pain every step caused, when she heard him behind her.
“You can’t be serious,” he sighed, jamming his hand through his hair. “Fine. If you are so determined to leave, I’ll drive you back to wherever you work.”
“That’s not necessary,” she tried to argue.
“Shut up.”
His words were clipped and angry, his eyes hard when she turned to look at him. “But…”
“No.” He bent, lifting her in his arms once more and carrying her to the couch.
“What the…What are you doing?”
“You’ll sit there,” he growled, “until I come back with my car. Then I’ll drive you back to work and tell your boss what happened.” He set her down, but she was back up before he could take a step away.
“I’ll be fine,” she said.
“Lord help me deal with stubborn, irrational women,” he hissed, staring up at the ceiling. “Listen Terry, this isn’t a debate. I’m not going to let you walk around the city streets like that. You don’t even have any shoes.”
She didn’t care. She wanted out of this office before she did something stupid. Like hit him or kiss him. She didn’t know which one she wanted more. “I’ll be fine,” she repeated. She lifted her head, glancing into his face.
It was her last mistake.
His hand came out, dragging through her hair, drawing her nearer. She gasped as the pain from her ankle shot through her, then again as his lips came down on hers. The kiss was hot and hard, punishing, bruising her mouth with his anger. His tongue swooped into her mouth, letting her taste his heat, his passion.
She moaned and he gentled his kiss, twisting his head to seal his mouth to hers. His hands went to her waist, wrapping around, easily pulling her slender body off the floor. He groaned when her breasts crushed against his chest and her arms slid up and over his shoulders.
Terry couldn’t breathe and she didn’t care if she ever did again. His lips were hot, tearing into her, creating a tension deep inside that had her rocking against him. He turned, keeping her off her feet, sitting down on the couch and cradling her across his lap.
Nashe’s hands slid up her bare legs and parted her thighs, his fingers slipping over the wet satin band of her thong. He groaned at finding her so needy, her fingers twisting in the short locks of his hair, her mouth devouring his. She felt the heavy bulge that pressed against her hip even as one of his fingers hooked the small band, pulling it free of her wetness, sliding his fingers into her heat.
“Ah,” she cried, tearing her mouth away from his lips. He plunged into her, stretching her, but it was not enough, not for either of them. “What are you doing?” she panted, her hips moving under the thrust of his finger as if begging for more.
“If you can’t tell,” he whispered against her ear, biting down on the lobe, “then I’m doing something wrong.”
The buttons of her jacket seemed to come free on their own, exposing the blue satin of her matching bra, the cups barely containing the straining softness of her breasts. Her skin was pale, blemish free and looked like satin. He rubbed his head against her skin and a sound like a purr erupted from his throat. “Take off your bra,” he ordered.
“W-what?” she asked, her eyes unfocused, her lips parted. Her cheeks bloomed with the heat of the sensations, causing her eyes to seem almost too blue.
“Take off your bra, Terry. I want to see your breasts again.”
“I-I…”
A loud knock sounded at the door and then Sam’s voice called out. “Nashe, Marissa and Lukah are here to see you. I told them you were busy but they said it was important.”
He lifted his head, slowly blowing out a deep breath. “I’ll be there in a few minutes, Sam. Thanks.” He heard her walking away, glancing down to see Terry slowly buttoning her top. “Wait, don’t. They can wait.” He quickly added another finger to the one that was thrusting inside of her, hearing her gasp and groan, his thumb circling the hard bud of her clit. “If I can’t have you now, I want you to come on my hand. I want the scent of you in my nose.”
“N-no,” she moaned, trying to resist. “Marissa can take me back to work.”
“I’ll take you back. I told you I would. But first...” He ducked his head as he spoke, nuzzling aside her hands and pushing open her jacket. His tongue swept over the upper curve of her breast and she groaned at the swelling of sensation that flooded her belly. Digging a bit deeper, he nosed aside the blue cup, taking her nipple into his mouth.
Heat surrounded her taut nipple, causing her back to arch and her fingers to dig into his hair. She could feel his tongue sweeping over the hard bud, his teeth nibbling on his tender treat. She gasped for air, wanting nothing more than to yank off his clothes and have him take her anyway. It was all she could think about. Even here, with a crowded restaurant right outside the doorway, Terry wanted to feel him inside of her again.
Her hands ripped at the tee shirt he wore, pulling it up so that his chest was bare. She couldn’t move it any further, for his chef jacket stopped it, but she wanted to feel his skin against her. Feel it for real this time, not like last night.
“Oh, God,” she whimpered, so close to coming that her entire body ached with the strain of wanting it.
Her skirt was around her waist. Her jacket was open, one satiny blue cup pushed down under the full mound of her breast. He pulled free of her wetness, grasping the top of her thong, the fragile material ripping easily under his strength.
“What are you doing?” she whimpered, her body aching for his touch. He shifted her, resting her head against the soft pillow on the edge of the couch, sliding out from under her. She watched as he stripped off his jacket, whipping his tee shirt over his head. He was golden from the sun, his body leanly muscled, his stomach hard and defined. A spattering of gray hair mixed with the black on his chest and her fingers itched, wanting to touch him, to feel the texture of that hair and the skin under it.
He moved toward her, lifting one of her legs over the back of the couch, the other with the sprained ankle he held gently in his lap. Leaning over her, he found her lips once more.
Terry was on fire. His chest pressed down against her breasts, skin to skin, his heat flooding into her. Her arms were around him, wanting more, her body arching against him. His tongue was in her mouth, dueling with her own. She tore her mouth away, desperately trying to fill her straining lungs.
“Terry,” he growled. “I want you.”
“Yes,” she moaned, reaching for the belt at his waist, her body aching so badly that she forgot where they were.
Neither heard the door open, so wrapped up in each other. But they couldn’t miss Marissa’s gasp of shock when she recognized the girl under Nashe’s half naked body, or Lukah’s chuckle.
“Oh, God,” Terry turned her face into the couch. She felt Nashe, his body still against hers, shift just enough so that he covered her, blocking their vision.
“I said I’d be out in a minute,” Nashe growled at Lukah. “You couldn’t wait?”
“Nashe, it’s been fifteen minutes. I got the final papers on the restaurant from my lawyer. I thought you might want to sign them.”
“Yeah, yeah of course I do. Now get out and I’ll be right there.”
As soon as the door closed, Terry pushed at his chest. “Let me up. God! I can’t believe I did this again.”
He moved slowly, as if he didn’t want to give up the feel of her against him. When he was up, she quickly fixed her clothing, looking around the floor for her thong.
“What do you mean by that?”
“What do you mean, what do I mean? I don’t like you, you are everything I can’t stand in a man but the instant you touch me…” she trailed off, realizing she was giving him ammunition to use against her.
“The minute I touch you what?” he urged, reaching out to run his fingers down her arm.
Terry shivered under the sensations before slapping his hand away. “Don’t.”
“Then answer me.”
“I can’t find my thong,” she groused instead, lifting one of the couch cushions.
“Terry, go out with me.”
“What?” Her head snapped up in surprise, her jaw dropping in shock. She narrowed her eyes. “Why?”
“Because I want you to,” he said, looking as surprise
d as she did.
“No you don’t, you don’t like me.”
“One part of me does,” he said, his voice silky.
Terry glared at him. “No.”
He growled, eyes flashing, reminding her of what he really was.
“If you can tell me where my thong is, I’ll get out of here,” she said, looking away from him.
“I have it,” he said, pulling the soft blue fabric out of his pocket. “I’m holding it ransom until you go out with me.”
Terry glanced at the torn blue fabric then into his face. “You can keep it.” She stood, hobbling over to the desk to grab her shoes. Picking up her purse, she dug out her mirror, almost groaning at the way she looked. Her hair was mussed from his hands, her lips swollen and her eyes hazy and soft. She looked like she’d been making love. Grabbing her brush, she quickly fixed her hair, tossing both mirror and brush back into her purse. “Thank you for helping me,” she said politely.
“Terry…”
“No,” she said quickly. “It’s better this way. No dating, no more dreams or whatever you did, just no more. You helped me out of a tough spot and I appreciate that. Let’s leave it at that.” She turned away, limping to the door and closing it quietly behind her.
“That’s what you think,” he said, narrowing his eyes at the door as a smile crept over his face.
A Strange New Breed
Chapter Three
Terry sank down on her couch, pushing aside the crutches she was beginning to hate. A sigh escaped her lips and she kicked off the one shoe she wore, laying her injured ankle on the pillow she’d put on her coffee table.
Marissa hadn’t been satisfied with Nashe’s handiwork, demanding she go to the emergency room. It had been a way to escape and Terry had taken it, gratefully allowing Mar to help her out to her car. Her last glimpse of Nashe had sent her pulse racing. He was staring at her, that same hungry look, predator chasing prey, shining in his eyes.
She’d had to field questions from Marissa the entire way to the hospital. Finally, she’d managed to turn it around and ask about Lukah.