by Laura Taylor
He sank down over her, his lips whispering up the side of her neck as he gathered her close. She shimmied beneath him, the delicate scrape of her taut nipples against his chest like delicate tongues of fire. She shifted yet again, the undulation of her lower body rousing his need to be inside her to even more acute heights. Reckless hunger rampaged through him.
"I have to convince myself that you’re real and not something I’ve imagined," he said, his strained voice revealing his consuming hunger for her.
"I’m real," she whispered. "And we are very real."
Lifting his head, he studied her. He marveled anew at her beauty, the startling blue of her eyes, and the heat and desire radiating out from them as she looked up at him.
She turned her head to press her lips into the palm of one of his hands before she said, "Make the world disappear, David."
It was the serenity in her eyes that crumbled his iron control—crumbled it to dust. He succumbed to the sensual woman in his arms and to the molten desire that ravaged his senses. He kissed her with a ravenous hunger, losing himself in the taste and feel of her.
Emma arched beneath him like the tautest bowstring. She moaned his name, and her fingers dug into his lower back in a tactile plea. He answered that plea for both their sakes. He couldn’t do otherwise. He thrust into her, seating himself in her depths to the hilt in one long, powerful stroke of his thick erection.
He drank in Emma’s answering cry of pleasure, not bothering to bite back his own low groan of relief to finally be inside of her. Hot wet flesh gripped his sex, her tight channel pure bliss. Her legs—those incredible long legs—circled his hips. And so began the ultimate intimacy, that sensual dance he’d spent countless days and nights imagining, although the actual dance made the one he’d conjured in his imagination seem insignificant by comparison.
Would he ever get enough of her? he wondered. The short answer—never.
She met his every thrust, becoming utterly volatile beneath him. She reminded him of a wildfire as she responded to him, to the slamming of his hard flesh into her sheathing heat, to the hungry joining of their mouths, and to the possessive, near frantic stroking of their hands on each other.
Emma. A miracle. His miracle. The miracle capable of tormenting and tantalizing. The miracle that rendered him mindless even as he possessed her. The miracle that could not possibly last.
Next time, he promised himself, he would linger over her, but for now his desperate craving for release came on hard and fast. Not surprising after three weeks of foreplay in that God damn prison cellblock.
Even now, Emma stoked his need. Not deliberately, he felt certain. Inexperience now translated into pure feminine instinct. He felt her body begin to tighten around his hard shaft, and he sensed her surprise in the moment before her body’s movements turned almost frantic. Gasping little cries spilled past her lips.
He lifted his head and watched her, tension etched into his features. Desire darkened his hazel eyes until they looked like bottomless black pools.
"Please," she whimpered.
"Please what?"
Emma clutched his shoulders. "I need…"
He didn’t break stride as he found the knot of nerves at the crown of her sex with his fingertips. "This?" he asked.
"Oh, God, yes, David," she groaned. "Yes." That final word possessed a faintly sibilant note.
And then Emma began to unravel, sensations unlike anything she’d ever before experienced encompassing her and spinning her into a sensory oblivion. David intensified his stroking penetration, thrust after hard, quick thrust into her searing heat awakening countless tiny muscles in her core that nearly sent him over the edge of his own precarious cliff of restraint. Shivers and spasms rippled through her, each one milking his cock and dismantling, centimeter by centimeter, his own control.
Urgency drove them with sharp spurs. They burned for each other in a conflagration so encompassing, both lost touch with everything but the currents of white–hot pleasure suffusing their merged bodies.
She climaxed suddenly, a sharp bursting low in her abdomen followed by a protracted release that seemed to consume her body and soul. He reveled in the possessive clutching of her sheathe. Reclaiming her mouth, David inhaled her shocked cries and gasps as she came apart within the safe harbor of his embrace.
He continued to surge into her depths while she clung to him. She chanted his name, the sound reminiscent of a mantra. His own control now ravaged beyond rescue, he surrendered to his own release.
He thrust high and hard, again and again until he exploded within the scalding clasp of Emma’s still quivering body. His seed jetted into her in an orgasm that seemed to go on forever, ultimately setting off yet another climax deep within her. She cried out her surprise, clinging to David as she rode out the stunning force of a second powerful storm.
Short sharp breaths of pleasure filled the otherwise silent room. They clung to each other, both sweat–soaked and trembling and utterly stunned.
Sanity and awareness returned, but slowly.
He sank down over her, trying not to crush her with his weight. When he brushed a light kiss over her lips, she opened her eyes and gave him a dazed, sated–looking smile.
"Wow."
He arched a dark eyebrow. "Wow?"
Her smile morphed into a grin. "Triple wow."
"You’re usually more articulate, Miss Hamilton."
She groaned, which made him chuckle. "Sorry. Tired. But you know what I mean."
"I do, and I wholeheartedly concur."
"Glad," she murmured before she brought his head down and kissed him. "So glad."
He took her with him as he rolled onto his side, cradling her against his chest. He held her to his still–racing heart and stroked her from shoulder to hip.
Emma exhaled a warm breath across his throat and curled into him, sighing, "Love… you… David Winslow."
His arms tightened around her. Although he pressed a kiss to the top of her head, he said nothing. Soon after, her breathing slowed and she drifted into a deep sleep.
Convinced that Emma’s feelings for him had been shaped by the circumstances of their imprisonment, David kept his own emotions under wraps. That he’d fallen in love with her wasn’t even the point. Neither one of them could predict how she would feel once they were free, when she wasn’t emotionally linked to him out of necessity thanks to a situation over which she’d possessed no control. That, unfortunately, was the point—at least as far as he was concerned.
He held Emma as she slept, unable to let down his guard as long as she remained in jeopardy. He intended to get her to the Canadian Embassy as soon as was humanly possible. Above all else he wanted her safe, and he didn’t give a damn about what he might need to do in order to achieve that goal.
8
Sprawled on her back, Emma jerked awake. She struggled to free herself from the hands that restrained her. She fought now, just as she’d fought those cruel hands in her nightmare.
"… you’re safe, Emma. Relax."
The reassuring voice finally reached her. She shuddered and opened her eyes to David’s worried gaze. Drawing in a steadying breath, she nodded as the tension slowly eased from her body. "Sorry. Nightmare. I… couldn’t… get free…" she gasped.
He gathered her close. "I understand."
Emma nodded, her respiration slowing. "I know you do. I really am sorry."
"Don’t apologize." His warm lips whispered up the side of her neck and paused at a sensitive spot just below her ear. She smiled as fiery streamers of sensation unfurled within her. She very nearly purred a few moments later when her nipples tightened into beads of acute sensitivity.
"Lovely," she murmured as she turned, rolled into him, aligning her body to his, and lifted her hand to his cheek. "Am I dreaming?"
"No, you’re not dreaming. And neither am I, thank God." He smiled.
Frowning, she trailed the tips of her fingers down the side of his beard–stubbled face. "You look tir
ed. You didn’t sleep, did you?"
He shrugged. "Not important."
"I don’t agree."
"I’ll get some rest, Emma, but not quite yet."
She reached up, slid her hand across his shoulder to the back of his neck, and felt the muscles that bunched beneath her fingertips. "You’re tense. What did I sleep through? Has something happened?"
"The neighbors on both sides of us are back."
She paled at that news. "When?"
"A few hours ago."
How long, she couldn’t help wondering, had she been asleep? "What time is it now?"
"Late afternoon, probably around four or four–thirty. I’m not exactly sure."
She glanced across the room at the drapery covered windows, registering the glow of daylight beneath the bottom edge of the hemmed fabric. "I slept all day?"
He nodded. "Amazing, isn’t it, what a decent bed can do for you when you’re running on empty?" His hand settled on her hip, fingertips lightly stroking.
The consuming silence finally occurred to her. "It’s so quiet. No bombs exploding, and no one is shooting guns into the sky."
"It’s been that way for about an hour," David said. "Things won’t crank up around here until dusk. Once it’s dark and all of the crazies emerge from their asylums, it’s game–on, though."
Emma felt chilled by their circumstances despite the warmth of David’s body. "What an insane way to live."
"Or to die."
"Let’s change the subject. Will you rest for a while if I promise not to fall asleep?" She pressed her lips to the pulse throbbing at the base of his throat.
His hand tightened on her hip, his already heavy shaft hardening even more against her lower abdomen.
"Will you?" she pressed, worry in those two words despite the desire winnowing its way into her bloodstream.
He nodded before admitting, "I’ll need to for at least an hour or two, since I don’t have two alert brain cells left to rub together right now. We can’t leave here for several more hours, so there’s plenty of time for me to grab some shut–eye."
"We’re going to lose ourselves in the darkness once we leave here." She wasn’t asking. Instead, she’d just stated her understanding of how they would manage the final leg of their journey to the Canadian Embassy.
He closed his arms around her, drew her close, and rolled onto his back. "Precisely, Ms. Hamilton."
Perched astride him, Emma smiled as she straightened. She took his hands, drew them up to breasts, and pressed his palms to their fullness. "Brilliant plan, Major Winslow," she half–whispered, half–moaned.
He flicked his thumbs back and forth across her nipples, sending arrows of pleasure darting to every region of her body. She gave him no opportunity to speak. Instead, she curled over him and found his lips.
David’s hungry, open–mouthed response ignited her senses. She sank into the depths of his totally carnal kiss, and her nipples tingled as he continued to lavish attention upon them with clever fingers. She trembled with desire, gripping his shoulders as he plundered her mouth.
When he released her lips, he met her gaze. A lazy smile lifted the edges of his lips, and his heavily–lashed dark eyes spoke volumes about his desire for her.
"You need to sleep," she whispered, on fire for him but aware that he should rest.
"I need you more," he countered.
Emma felt the throbbing of his sex against the sultry entrance to her body. She bent her head and pressed a kiss to the fading bruise that marred his right shoulder. As he bracketed her hips with his hands, her lips glided to his collarbone, the tip of her tongue leaving a hot trail of sensation in its wake. At the pulse point at the base of his throat, she felt the pounding of his blood and she lingered there to lick at his skin.
She lifted her head some time later to look at him. His grip on her hips tightened. She sucked in a sharp breath when he shifted her into even more intimate contact with his hard, thick sex. His eyes darkened, hunger gleaming in their depths.
"You want me," Emma breathed.
"Need and want… two sides of the same coin where you’re concerned."
As if to prove the statement, he altered his position beneath her, making her moan with pleasure when the head of his cock pressed against her slick cleft. He paused then, poised to penetrate her body as she crouched over him. She shifted slightly, allowing him a few centimeters of connection. He held perfectly still, ceding control to her as they stared at each other.
She clutched his shoulders, knees pressed into the mattress and her long dark hair like a veil designed to shield their bodies from view. Her respiration, emerging in short gasping pants, was the only sound in the room. She slowly sank downward, impaling herself on his hard flesh in a long glide until he filled her.
His eyes fell closed and his head went back to expose the corded muscles of his throat. An inarticulate sound escaped him as her body relaxed around his shaft. She whispered his name on a shattered little sigh.
"Too much?" he asked in a hoarse voice.
"No."
"Christ, you’re perfect, Emma."
"No."
He opened his eyes, clearly not expecting the challenge in her tone.
"We… are perfect… together."
His lips quirked in amusement. "I stand corrected… ma’am."
She grinned. "I couldn’t do this standing up if my life depended on it."
"You never…" He groaned when he felt those glorious little muscles deep within her body tremble and tug at his sex. "… know."
Her eyes fell closed as he brought his hands up to frame her face. She felt his sudden possessiveness when he plunged his fingers into her disheveled dark mane and held her head still.
He met her surprised gaze, admitting, "I can’t keep my hands off you."
"I can’t get enough of you, either."
"You’re as sensual as I knew you’d be."
Emma smiled, glad he felt that way. "I worried you might be disappointed."
"Never. Not in a million years. You’re a natural."
"Only with you."
When he closed his eyes and tension suffused his body, she assumed he was simply responding to the intimate alignment of their bodies. His fingers, still massaging her scalp, unexpectedly flexed and then tightened. She traced his dark brows with her fingertips, unconsciously try to soothe him.
"I wouldn’t have made it without you these last weeks," he said. "The isolation… and the beatings… were close to destroying my sanity."
The rawness of his voice and the sudden shift in his mood startled her. Her fingers stilled, and she studied him. The grimace marring his rugged features assured her that he was remembering torture sessions with his interrogators.
"You gave me a reason to fight back," he continued. "I’ll always appreciate what you did for me."
"We helped each other," Emma reminded him, surprised to find his apparent gratitude as distasteful as he’d found hers. She wanted his love, but life had already taught her that real love could only be given as a gift. It couldn’t ever be forced.
His fingers tightened against her scalp once again. Emma couldn’t ignore the tension coursing through him. She sensed he’d suppressed his own anxiety in order to help her through the last three weeks, and she suspected that he might now be grappling with some form of delayed shock.
"David?"
He looked at her, a bleak expression on his face.
"We’ll heal each other, just as we helped each other."
Emma kneaded his temples with gentle fingertips. She felt his grip on her ease, but the anguish lingered in the depths of his eyes as he gazed at a spot somewhere beyond her shoulder. Nothing could have prepared her for the gritty edge to his voice when he spoke a few minutes later.
"I need you to love me, Emma. I can’t stop thinking about the last three months. My mind won’t let me shut it off." He blinked, refocusing on her. "It’s my turn to ask you to make the world go away, even if it’s just for a l
ittle while."
Swallowing the tears that threatened to choke her, Emma slowly leaned forward. David’s hands glided unsteadily over her shoulders and then down her back before pausing at her hips. Though she’d never loved anyone as much as she loved him at this moment, it suddenly didn’t matter that he might not love her in return.
She captured his lower lip with gentle teeth, stroking its width with the tip of her tongue before initiating darting forays into his mouth. His fingers dug into her flesh as he gripped her. His sex, still sheathed deep within her, surged and pulsed with strength.
David trembled beneath her caress, and a new kind of tension began to seep into his body. His hands moved constantly, and his calloused fingertips ignited sparks of sensation everywhere he touched her.
She nipped at his lower lip before venturing beyond to sample the taste and heat of him. She sucked at his tongue even as she silently vowed that she would use her love for him as a healing balm.
Love and desire guided her as she savored David’s unique taste and explored the varying textures of his mouth. In truth, she felt as though she’d been hurled into the center of a raging storm. Breathless and thoroughly aroused, she undulated against him and hungrily devoured his mouth.
She eventually relinquished his lips to move like hot satin down his muscular torso. Although he protested when she eased free of his penetration, she made up for it by teasing, tantalizing, and then dazzling him with her mouth and hands until she reached his aroused sex.
Despite her inexperience, Emma trusted her instincts, her compelling need to give pleasure to him. She registered his startled groan as she closed her mouth around the head of his shaft, and she proceeded to reduce his world to blurred sensations, tingling nerve endings, and sensual cravings. And just as she’d given him the gift of her love, she gave of herself, without restraint, without concern for her own needs, and without conditions.