SINGLE FATHER SEEKS...

by Amy J. Fetzer

  Her expression turned tender. "Of course I love her."

  "Or that when you look at me, I can't breathe sometimes," he said as if she hadn't spoken.

  Same here, she thought wildly. Same here.

  "I've tried to push you out of my mind since you walked through my front door, and I don't want to any more." He rose slowly and started toward her.

  Ciara stepped back.

  "Why do I scare you?"

  Pride straightened her spine as she wasn't about to admit he did anything to her, but it was a lie. And she was telling enough of those already. "Because if this were just sexual, I might be able to handle it." Her voice trembled and she swallowed.

  "But it's not, is it?" He held his breath.

  She shook her head, and he kept coming toward her, slowly, like a lazy prowl. Stalking.

  Please don't touch me, she prayed. "You said you didn't want this," she whispered, taking another defensive step backward. "I said I didn't want this."

  "Want and need are two different things," he said, his voice low and rough with desire. "And I need you, Ciara."

  Her heart slammed against the wall of her chest and she stared into his ice-blue eyes, thinking she wasn't what he needed, what he even thought she was. She wasn't forever after and carpools and kids. She wasn't dinner parties and family weekends. She was temporary.

  And she was lonely.

  God, she was so very lonely.

  She was tired of it, and she knew what this moment meant. She could feel it tingling through her body and swelling through her heart. She'd been isolated for so long and being with him had changed that. There was freedom in his eyes as there had been that night in Hong Kong. Here, there were careless decisions and fun and relaxation, and she wondered exactly when she'd healed … and when she'd become so vulnerable.

  She looked down at the floor, at their feet inches apart. The separating line in more than just their bodies. There was the final straw that would break them in half. If he knew she was a CIA agent, he'd hate her. The knowledge was instinctive. She'd lied—kept it from him and the danger that could touch his daughter. Deep inside she knew she was saving it for the moment when ties would have to be cut again and she would become Ciara Caldwell, not Ciara Stuart, and slip into her role of an operative for Central Intelligence. Oh God, she thought. Right now, it was the last thing she wanted to happen.

  Which was it? her mind cried. Need or want. In those words he offered her the chance and the risk to her heart that she swore she wouldn't take again, with any man.

  But Bryce Ashland wasn't just any man.

  He was the only one she'd truly wanted.

  With him, she could forget.

  One step … one step.

  "Ciara?" His fingers pushed under her chi and she lifted her gaze.

  Her eyes were glossy with unshed tears, and at the sight of it, Bryce felt his chest cave, emotions folding in on each other. She looked helpless and fragile right now, so different from the strong and independent female who'd taken over his life, his thoughts. At that moment he understood just how hard she'd fought her feelings, fought her desire.

  Then her lips trembled and Bryce experienced the rushing need to protect her, soothe her. "Darlin', talk to me," he whispered.

  She took the step, wrapping her arms around his neck, her fingers sinking into his hair as she pulled his head down. "No talking, no thinking, Bryce." The words whispered against his lips and she shuddered. "Please."

  Her mouth engulfed his, and she kissed him almost frantically as she pushed her body into his. It was like melting wax, need spilling from her and into him. It was as much a balm as it was torture and he closed his arms around her, and squeezed. She seemed to need it, to feel him more than ever before. It was as if they couldn't touch enough, feel enough and five years of fantasy flourished like a white water river out of control. He wanted to taste all of her. Not to match it with his past memory, but to erase the old and create fresh.

  Suddenly she pulled back, breathing hard.

  "What?" Then he heard it.

  "Carolina."

  Ciara was off like a shot, running through the house and up the stairs. Bryce was on her heels. She reached the baby first, gathering Carolina up against her and soothing her tears. His daughter shuddered and quieted, and Ciara rocked her in her arms, stroking her head and whispering gentle words. Bryce's gaze was riveted to her as he walked into the room.

  She lifted her gaze from the baby to him and he saw her doubts. She'd had time to think. He was losing her so easily, so quickly, and panic filled him. He loved his daughter, but he needed this woman, more than in his bed. He had to have patience. But right now, he was out of it.

  Carolina was already asleep in Ciara's arms and he took his daughter, laying her in the crib and covering her. Then he grabbed Ciara's hand, pulling her out of the room and closing the door. The sensation of urgency was tangible as he spun her into his arms and pinned her against the nearest wall.

  Her hands flew to his chest. "Bryce?"

  "No, Ciara. Don't. I know you. I know you're thinking of more reasons not to let this happen. But it's time to change things between us. Now."

  Her gaze sketched his features, a million denials running through her head. But her heart spoke for her. "Yeah," she said, leaning closer.

  He kissed her. Hard. A devouring kiss and thirsty for what only she could give. She responded wildly, unchecked, her hands gripping him fiercely, her body meshing to his. She gave as good as she got, and Bryce experienced the revelation of a lifetime.

  No one would match him like Ciara. No one ever had. Here, there was instant trust. Last time it was just sex. This time he'd make love to her.

  And he'd show her there was a big difference between the two.

  * * *

  Chapter 8

  « ^ »

  Ciara gave herself permission to want, to take, to have something she'd been denied. This man's loving. This man's touch. The way he made her feel so cherished and desired. Even when they were out of control.

  And they were getting there.

  Fast.

  And there was no turning back. Not without regret and she was full of those lately. She grabbed him by the shirtfront, pulling one side of the fabric tight and popping open each button, then yanking it from his trousers. All the while he kissed her, molding her mouth, his hands chasing over her body. She pushed the material off his shoulders and down his arms, then splayed her hands across his chest.

  He flinched at the contact and met her gaze. She could almost feel him tasting her with his eyes. A flood of fantasy and memory swept over her.

  Impatient and greedy. Like she was now.

  She forced him to walk backward, and kept pushing, intent on the bedroom she'd never seen. She hadn't wanted to see where he slept. Just the thought of it evoked too many images she couldn't fight.

  Didn't want to fight.

  "The bed that way?" Her chin nudged the air toward the bedroom.

  "Yeah, if we make it that far." As they moved, he opened her blouse, sliding his hand around her to unclasp her bra. The instant he touched her skin, he lost it, pressing her to the doorjamb and filling his hand with her soft rounded flesh.

  She moaned and covered his hands. "Are we there yet?" she asked over the loss of air in her lungs.

  Bryce chuckled darkly and bent, taking her nipple deep into his mouth.

  A deep throaty growl came from the back of her throat, and he knew she was watching him. It made his groin tighten unbearably to know it and when he licked and suckled her tender skin, he was rewarded with the most incredible sound. Breathy gasps, lush moans and his name chanted. He reveled in the sounds, let them coat him, feed his desire. With his tongue he drew tight circles around her nipple until her skin was damp and she was clawing at his shoulders. His hands were no less busy, opening her jeans, pushing them down, pausing in the task to dip between her thighs and heighten her pleasure. She was wet and hot, and the knowledge sent impatience roc
keting through him. He stroked her and she frantically shoved at her jeans herself, working them down to give him better access.

  Then he sank to his knees.

  He buried his face in her taut stomach, his fingertips digging into her buttocks and felt himself tremble with want. He dragged his tongue over her smooth flesh and for a fraction of a second, glanced up. She was watching him again, her lungs working for every breath, her hands running voraciously over his arms, his face. Eager, hungry, lovingly. She smiled like a cat.

  He peeled her open and tasted her.

  She cried out, the throaty sound spilling over him, and he drove deeply, pulling her leg over his shoulder. She rocked and he felt her pulsing, her delicious squirming. It nearly undid him. Then he thrust two fingers inside her and she came apart for him instantly, her body tightening, pawing with the sweet explosion.

  He devoured her pleasure.

  Ciara couldn't catch her breath, he wouldn't let her. She jerked and flexed, her muscles tense and then she was falling, bathed in fast heat and throbbing pleasure. He moaned and flicked his tongue and she shrieked his name. He smiled, dragging his mouth across her thigh, biting her flesh, tasting her lush body all the way up to her mouth.

  She was on him in an instant, kissing him, clinging to him. "Hurry," she whispered against his lips, shoving his trousers down. He made her this way she thought. Always so wild and hungry for him, for the slice of heaven only he'd given her.

  "We need protection." He edged toward the nightstand beside the four poster bed, yet refused to give up kissing her.

  "Don't need it." Her blouse and bra hit the floor.

  He hesitated.

  "Trust me," she said, pulling him back.

  Bryce stripped out of his trousers, and Ciara took her fill of looking at him. His body was still rock hard, ropy with muscle and she stepped close until her breasts were touching his chest. He was breathing hard, staring down at her. "I'm about to throw you on your back and go to town." She smiled and smoothed her hands over his chest, then lower, feeling his muscles jump beneath her touch.

  "No patience?"

  "None."

  She bent and licked his nipple and his breath hissed out between clenched teeth as she played over and over. He gripped her waist, wanting more and thinking he couldn't get any harder. Then she wrapped her fingers around his arousal and he thought he'd explode.

  He muttered a curse and clasped her to him, kissing her thickly, cupping her buttocks and pushing his knee between her thighs. She ground down on him, her heat warming him, driving stinging currents of anticipation through his blood. He pressed his knee to the bed and held her there, suspended, hovering over her.

  She stroked him, her fingertips sliding over the damp velvet tip of him.

  "I want to taste you."

  Every muscle he owned clenched. "No."

  She smiled at the harshness of his voice and knew he was as volatile as she was.

  Bryce thought he'd lose any ounce of restraint right there and pried her hand loose. Then she kissed him again, her lips, her tongue, her body rocking against his in sweet torture. Just the thought of being inside her, of feeling the velvet softness of her grip him was more than any man could handle. He ground his teeth and his shoulders tensed as he waited for a fraction of the rushing desire to recede.

  He smoothed his hand up her side, enfolded her breast, then bent to draw her nipple into the heat of his mouth. He played and suckled, laved and tugged.

  By the time he lifted his head, she was laboring for her next breath.

  Cool blue eyes stared back at her. He hooked his hand behind her knee and spread her wider, his own thighs shifting between.

  "Get ready for change, Ciara," he growled and she felt the challenge of his words prick her like needles.

  He was laying more than his body before her, giving more than the physical. And Ciara knew that though she was temporary, her feelings for this man were not. She wanted more than she had a right to take, yet she answered him by cupping his face and kissing him thickly, licking the line of his lips before pushing her tongue inside.

  Bryce moaned like a man in agony.

  "Then change me," she whispered softly, closing her fingers over his arousal. He tensed in reaction, and she stroked the tip of him against her softness. He cursed softly and she felt his body tremble.

  Bryce slammed his eyes shut and let her toy with him. "I wouldn't dream of denying you."

  With a heave he pushed her to the center of the grand bed, then crawled closer. She sat up, pushing him back on his haunches, then climbed onto his lap. His arms closed around her, his arousal thick and tight between them, the impatience of passion stretching their nerves taut. Her gaze locked with his, she enfolded him, guided him. A near violent shudder wracked him and pulsed into her. His throat worked and he gripped her hips. She inched closer, and in nearly painful increments, he slowly filled her.

  "Ciara, sweet mercy." Bryce swallowed, trying to catch his breath and failing. He had never felt so exposed, barren, and smoothing her hair back off her face, he saw the same vulnerability in her dark eyes.

  They were still, his body buried in hers. One, wrapped tight and strong. And he knew no other moment would equal this.

  He flexed inside her.

  "Oh Bryce," she whispered, her voice fracturing.

  "Yes, I know, I know," he whispered and touched his lips to hers, gently worrying her mouth and struggling not to blurt out what was swelling inside his chest. She was the only one for him, he thought. And in the morning, he would be certain that she knew it. The realization stunned him and he buried his face in the bend of her throat. "Darlin'," he rasped. "I need you."

  "Me, too." She didn't want to examine the feelings rushing through her and reveled in their closeness, his hands molding the curve of her spine, then settling on her hips. His mouth traced an imaginary path down her throat, her chest and she leaned back, offering herself to him.

  In the middle of a kiss, he gave her hips motion. They went slow, measured, and Ciara felt every inch of him leave her, then fill her again.

  Ice-blue eyes flared and darkened with each stroke. Blood hummed in her veins and she wrapped her arms around his neck, her forehead pressed to his. He pumped, never leaving her completely. As if to do so would break the spell.

  She wanted to capture and hold the magic, and when her body cried out, he soothed it. Her soul ached and he held it tenderly. She was alone, had chosen to be, but he'd surrounded her with more than she ever dreamed, tempting her to rejoin the living. She wanted forever, but could have only a fraction of time. Her eyes burned, her emotions tattered and needy, and she kissed him hungrily, thrusting harder, reaching for more than the sweet oblivion he could give her.

  "I can feel you pulsing," he whispered, the friction nearly unbearable and he pulled her legs up around his hips and laid her on the bed. With his arms locked, his body braced, he plunged thickly and withdrew, the tender cadence of their loving releasing to the primal need to claim. Her, him, each other. Her body rose to greet him, welcome him, and he thrust, finding the perfect match he'd lost years before.

  Here, she yielded to him. Here, nothing else mattered.

  And as their bodies clashed in carnal pleasure, their hearts spoke.

  Need. Want. Love.

  Slick skin met and clashed. Softness yielded and gave, undulating like waves on the wild sea. The flames of passion spread and burned. He pushed and pushed, long and deep, sending her body racing to catch the elusive pleasure.

  Then they caught it.

  "Ciara," he choked as an exquisite climax roared through his body, scraping up his spine and shattering through him. Throwing his head back, he drove into her and touched her soul.

  She clung to him as he set off a luxurious rhapsody of sensation in her. She bowed like a pale ribbon, and he ground into her, time and motion suspended as opulent pleasure rippled down her body to claim him. To latch onto his soul and steal it out of his chest.

 
She whispered his name over and over, and he heard tears in her voice, saw them in her eyes when he looked at her. The sight made his heartbeat stagger and he eased down onto her. Immediately she gripped him tighter, burying her face in his chest.

  Ciara felt as if every emotion she possessed was hanging by a thread, unveiled by his loving. Gone was the memory of Hong Kong and in its place grew the tenderness of a lifetime. Her throat seized and she knew she was on borrowed time. That this would end and likely destroy her. And him. But she could no more stop it than she could stop a wave, stop breathing. He was in her blood. She wanted all she could have, even it they were crumbs.

  He rose up, and met her gaze.

  "You okay?" he said, his voice rough.

  "Incredible," she said, tracing his features, the line of his lips. He kissed her fingertips, her palm, knowing nothing could describe what he was feeling, what had just happened between them. And as he carefully rolled to his back, taking her with him, he didn't think words would do them justice. Bryce wanted only to stay there with her locked around him like a second skin, and forget the world that moved and lived beyond this moment.

  Ciara lay sprawled across his chest like a sated lion as she waited for her world to tip back into focus. His hands moved over her spine in slow circles and together they let out a slow breath so full of contentment and peace, that deep inside, it scared them both.

  * * *

  A short while later Ciara stirred. Bryce's fingers were in her hair, toying with it where it lay spread over his chest. She snuggled deeper and didn't want to move a muscle.

  "Am I too heavy?"

  He scoffed. "Not likely."

  He sifted his fingers through her hair and finally she lifted her head, and met his gaze. Her insides twisted and jumped at the look in his eyes, full of pure masculine contentment and she inched up, loving his groan and how he curled to meet her.

  He kissed her softly, an erotic play of lips and tongue that stirred her body and warmed her heart. When he drew back and settled into the mound of pillows, she propped her forearms on his chest.