Stolen: A Novel of Romantic Suspense

by Shiloh Walker

  “It doesn’t.” He slid one arm around her, bracing his hand against her belly. “Not the way you’re thinking. But how in the hell am I supposed to touch you without scaring you? And how can I live with myself if I do scare you?”

  His lips brushed over her shoulder, left bare by her tank. “I don’t want to scare you … I don’t want to hurt you … but I want you more than I want to breathe and you’re killing me,” he whispered against her skin. “I don’t know how to handle this and you’re moving at the speed of light here.”

  As he skimmed a hand up her arm, she shivered. Some of the ice gripping her heart melted, though, as he used the hand on her belly to ease her body closer to his. “Do you really want me to leave, Shay?”

  Closing her eyes, she tried to think around the roaring in her ears. Did she want him to leave? She didn’t know—did she? And why in the hell was she suddenly expected to think?

  Hedging, she asked, “Shouldn’t you be at the store?”

  “I called Lorna last night and asked her if she’d be okay covering today if I didn’t make it in until later.” The words were spoken against the curve between her neck and shoulder, and the feel of his lips moving against the skin there was a minor torment.

  She groaned and tipped her head to the side.

  He kissed her. But that was all he did. That one, soft kiss. Then he murmured against her ear, “You didn’t answer me. Do you want me to leave? You can get some work done. I can come back later. Tonight, or in a few days. We can go out to dinner. Talk.”

  He was leaving this completely up to her, damn it.

  Why was this so much harder now?

  But she already knew the answer.

  She’d slowed down enough to think.

  And it was always harder once her brain took control from her body.

  Swallowing, she turned around and stared at him.

  “You don’t want to scare me,” she said quietly. “Is that the reason you want to stop?”

  CHAPTER

  ELEVEN

  MyDiary.net/slayingmydragons

  DARCY STARED AT THE PAGE, HIT THE REFRESH BUTTON.

  Nothing.

  She did it again.

  Cleared the cache.

  Nothing.

  It was after nine in Alaska. Shay rarely slept past seven. She should have done her online journaling by now. It was the one thing that kept her sane, and while she didn’t do it every day, she did it on the days when the dreams had been bad.

  Last night should have been very, very bad.

  Those dragons of hers should have all but eaten her alive.

  So what the hell was going on?

  And she did such a wonderful fucking job taking care of you … didn’t she … Michelline …?

  That was a little surprise she’d been clutching close to her chest for a long, long time. Darcy had damn well expected some kind of response. Her throat ached as she reached up to touch the screen. Although they talked on the phone all the time and emailed, this was her strongest connection to Shay.

  The online journal.

  When Shay was scared, this was how Darcy knew what to say.

  When she was pissed, this was how Darcy knew what had upset her.

  Although the way Shay was upset lately … really, Darcy didn’t get that—maybe she needed to think it through a little more. Shay cared about selling books so she could sell more, right? Darcy was trying to help her do just that—sell more books by promoting her. Obviously, she’d miscalculated and she needed to fix things, but how could she do that when Shay wasn’t reaching out?

  Touching the monitor, she stared at it, as though that alone would make the damn post appear.

  She needed to know what happened to Shay last night. Had she dreamed?

  Had she made him leave?

  Or … worse?

  “Please, no …” Darcy covered her eyes. She didn’t even want to think about that. It just wasn’t right.

  Elliot stared down at her heart-shaped face and wondered if she had any idea how fucking hard it was for him to not touch her.

  “I don’t want to stop,” he murmured, shaking his head. He brushed the back of his knuckles down her cheek. “I want you naked and if I have my way, I’ll have you naked sometime very, very soon. But I want to know I can do it without scaring you. I want to know I won’t hurt you.”

  She gave him a faint smile, the dimple in her cheek flashing. “Elliot, I don’t think you have it in you to hurt a woman. I’m not worried about that.” Then she sighed and reached up to rest her hands on his chest. “But I can’t promise you I’m not going to get scared. I just can’t. Hell, I’ve never been able to have a sexual relationship, casual or otherwise. Period.”

  She paused, biting her lip as she worked up her nerve. “You know I’m … jumpy,” she settled on, glancing at him. She didn’t have to explain that. He’d already figured it out and she knew that without asking, because she’d seen it in the way he’d treated her over the years. “But you haven’t seen anything. Once, I …” She stopped and blew out a breath.

  Elliot just waited.

  “When I was in college, there was a guy. It was my junior year and we’d been flirting … or I’d been trying to flirt and he flirted back.” She looked away, staring off into nothing. “I just wanted to feel normal. And he was a nice guy. I liked him. A lot. He was … sweet. Patient. He was going to medical school, and I think he knew what had happened with me. He was … well, like I said … patient. We tried. One time.” She grimaced and shot him a look. “I broke his nose. I freaked out the one time we tried to sleep together and I broke his nose.”

  Elliot cupped his hand over the back of her head and pressed his brow to hers. “My nose has been broken before. I can handle it.”

  She laughed, the sound caught between tears and relief and other emotions she couldn’t define. “Elliot, he told me the same thing. But I couldn’t handle it. There was this wonderful guy and he couldn’t touch me the way we both wanted without me losing it. How do I know I’m not going to do the same thing when we try?”

  Jealousy burned in him for a brief moment, but he brushed it off. Doesn’t matter—he was important to her and she needed that. Hell, Shay needed a hell of a lot more than what she’d gotten in life. Taking a deep breath, he stared into her eyes and asked softly, “Do you trust me?”

  “If I didn’t, I never would have opened my door.” She touched his cheek.

  “Okay. Then I’m going to do something and if you feel the need to punch me, just let me know. Or … well, you could punch me, but you’d probably be sorry for that later. But here’s the deal: if you do hit me, you’re not allowed to run.” He paused and watched as she pulled her head back, still watching him. “Deal?”

  “What are you going to do?” she asked warily.

  “Not telling you. Just remember … you trust me. Deal or not?”

  She grimaced. “This is more entertaining when Howie is offering a suitcase full of money.”

  “Oh, you’ll be entertained, I think.” Either that, or he’d be dealing with a busted nose. “So … deal?”

  “Deal.” She watched him warily and when he rested a hand on her side, she glared at him, her mouth turning down in a scowl.

  “That’s it?”

  “No.” He leaned in and slanted his mouth over hers, stroking his tongue along her lower lip until she opened for him on a shuddering sigh. As she did, he slid his hand up and cupped one round, small breast in his hand.

  Shay gasped as he stroked his thumb over the hard, pebbled crest of her nipple. Lifting his head slightly, he whispered, “This is.”

  Staring into her eyes, he circled her nipple with his thumb. “I’ve been going out of my mind ever since you came out of your room wearing this damn shirt … why did you even bother?”

  Shay just shuddered and her gaze darkened to near black. As a weak moan escaped her, he asked, “Are you thinking about punching me?”

  “No …”

  “Goo
d.” He continued to toy with her nipple, watching her face, her eyes, for any sign of fear, any sign of nerves. Her slim, strong body was tense and trembling … but her fingers dug into his arms and then moved to his waist, gripping him closer.

  And every now and then, she moved, slow, hesitant shifts of her hips that had her brushing against the aching ridge of his cock. This was going to be an experiment in control … and in sweet, sweet torment, Elliot realized.

  Stroking his hand down her side, he rested it under the hem of the tank. “Can I …?”

  Shay stared at him, her eyes glassy. “Can you what?”

  He eased the shirt higher.

  “Oh …” She blushed and then nodded, reaching down to tug it up.

  “Let me,” he whispered, nudging her hands down.

  She stood there and let him strip it away and he watched as she started to cover herself—watched as she stopped and lowered her hands, standing there with her head bowed, the dark, choppy strands of her hair falling into her face.

  Then he watched as she squared her shoulders before she lifted her head to look him in the eye. As if she was prepared for him to flinch, for him to look away. Reaching up, he cupped her face in his hands and took her mouth. In his mind’s eye, he could see the scars, and in another moment he’d see them again, but when he looked at her, all he really saw was her …

  Her tension had returned when he stripped off her shirt, but as he kissed her, he could feel it creeping away. As she sighed into his mouth, as she swayed against him, he rested his hands on her waist. He stroked them upward until he could cup her breasts. He could feel the faint ridge of a scar here and there, but more, he felt the silken, sweet flesh of her breasts, the hard crests of her nipples … and her. Shay. He felt Shay.

  But it wasn’t enough. Lifting his head, he stared at her. “Do you trust me?” he asked again.

  Shay swallowed. Then slowly, she nodded.

  As he dipped his head, he loosened his grip on her waist. From the corner of his eye, he saw her hand move. As he closed his mouth around one nipple, she reached for him.

  With a cry, she buried one hand in his hair. Her body sagged against his and he braced her weight with his arm around her waist. It was awkward—she was small, almost delicate. Groaning, he boosted her up, balancing her weight in his hands and lifting her breasts so they were level with his mouth.

  “Elliot,” she yelped, startled.

  He slid her a look, staring at her over the curves of her breasts, the taste of her still lingering on his tongue. Squeezing the taut curve of her ass, he said gruffly, “Should I stop?”

  Shay stared at him. And then she whispered, “No.” She tightened the hand she had in his hair, urging his head back to her breasts. He licked, teased, and softly bit until she was groaning and arching against him, her hips rocking back and forth slowly. The friction was driving him nuts and he doubted she was in much better shape.

  Kissing his way up over her collarbone, along the line of her neck to her mouth, he fisted his hand in her hair and covered her mouth with his. She caught him off guard when she cupped his face in her hands and plundered his mouth, her tongue sliding out to tangle with his, a sleek, hot little dart that rubbed over his and toyed and tangled.

  It wasn’t until they were both starving for air that they broke apart, gasping.

  He slid his hand down her back, just inside the waist of her pants, and toyed with the lace he felt along her panties. “I think now sounds like a good time to talk about getting you naked,” he whispered against her shoulder.

  “We don’t really need to talk about it.”

  Lifting his head, he stared at her flushed face. “You sure?”

  She laughed nervously, her eyes glinting with hunger … and resolve. He could see that certainty and it burned him straight through to his gut. “Yes,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her naked breasts to his chest. Shay lowered her head and started to nibble at the flesh along his shoulder. “I’m sure.”

  The blood drained out of his head and for a moment, he thought he was going to drop her—his knees were feeling … No. He was good. His cock pulsed hard, like a bad tooth, and he had to … fuck, he had to get her naked, and now sounded really good. Naked, so he could get inside …

  “Shit,” he bit off as something occurred to him.

  Shay lifted her head from his shoulder. “What?”

  “I don’t have anything with me, damn it.” He groaned. This wasn’t happening. Damn it, this wasn’t happening.

  “What do you mean, you don’t have anything?” she asked, some of the heat clearing from her eyes.

  “Protection.” He unlocked her ankles from behind his back and eased her to the floor. “I wasn’t … hell, Shay. I came up here to talk to you about the trouble going on, not for this. Damn it. Hell of a time for the just-in-case fairy to not be around.”

  Shay blinked at him. “Did you say ‘the just-in-case fairy’?”

  “Uh …” Elliot felt the slow rush of blood creeping up his neck. Shit. Had he just said that? “Ah, that’s a Lorna thing. She used to tease me about making sure I’d have that kind of thing on hand … since I wouldn’t have a just-in-case fairy …”

  “Ah, Lorna said you did have one … said to check your car.” She circled around him and grabbed her phone from the counter, shoving it into his hands. “I didn’t know what she was rambling about, but …” She finished with a shrug as he read the text.

  Elliot blinked at the phone. Then he reached out and hooked his hand over the back of Shay’s neck, hauling her against him. Startled, she barely even had time to breathe before his mouth came down on hers with sudden, shocking intensity. And then he was gone, moving out of the kitchen at a pace that was almost a run.

  “Elliot?”

  She reached up to touch her buzzing lips, but he didn’t pause.

  “What the …”

  With a scowl, she grabbed her shirt and tugged it on, then trailed along after him. A blast of cold air came through the door just as she reached the front hall and she saw his back right before he shut the door behind him. Without his coat. Bemused, she headed down the hall and opened the door, arms crossing over her chest. It was still dark out, although the sky was starting to lighten just a little toward the east.

  The bright security lights she had installed lit up the grounds enough that she saw Elliot just fine as he came jogging his way back up to her. “What are you doing? It’s got to be ten degrees outside,” she snapped at him. “Are you …”

  He crowded her back into the house, dipped his head, and smothered the rest of her words with his mouth. “Remind me to tell my sister thanks,” he muttered as he kicked the door shut.

  She didn’t even have any way of making sense of that. Not until he leaned back and reached for the hem of her shirt. “Didn’t we take this off already?” he asked, toying with the fabric.

  “I thought we weren’t … we couldn’t …”

  He pulled something out of his pocket.

  Blood rushed to her cheeks as she realized what it was. Condoms. Staring at the strip of foil packets, she said, “You mean to tell me that your sister left rubbers in your car after you called her last night?”

  “Yeah. Remind me to tell her thanks.” He reached over and hooked his fingers in the front of her pants, tugged her against him. “Come here …”

  “Why would your sister do that?”

  “Probably because she knows I’d never think of it, and because she’s always hopeful.” He pressed his mouth to her shoulder. “She kept telling me I needed to get back with you. I guess she got all excited when I told her where I was.” He lifted his head and studied her, eyes thoughtful. “Are you mad?”

  She shrugged. “No … I’m not mad. I’m a little embarrassed, thinking that your sister knows, or is maybe thinking … hell. Can we stop discussing this? I’m not mad, isn’t that enough? I’m not entirely comfortable with this sort of thing, you know.”

 
; “We can stop discussing this.” He curved his hands over her waist and eased her body against his. “I think we should get right back to where we were … and we were right about here, I think. I’m pretty sure I was about to talk you out of your pants, if I remember right.”

  “I think that sounds just about right.” Catching her lower lip between her teeth, Shay glanced around. “We … um. We’re in the hall.”

  “Yeah.” He frowned, and then caught her hand. “Come on.”

  She followed along behind him, but he didn’t lead her to the bedroom. They stopped in the living room, where the fireplace still crackled along merrily. “I should put out the fire,” she said, distracting herself.

  She was about to have sex with Elliot—

  “No. I like it.” He pressed his lips to her neck.

  “But …”

  “Shhh …” He guided her to the couch. But not to the front. He leaned against the back, legs spread. He settled his hips against the couch as he guided her closer.

  “Here?” She stared at him.

  “Why not?” Trailing his fingers down the midline of her body, he said, “Let’s get you out of those pants now.”

  But when he went to reach for the waistband, Shay caught his hands. He stilled.

  She reached up and plucked at his sweater. “You’re about two seconds away from having me naked and you’re still completely dressed.” With a glance down, she added, “You even went and put your damn boots on.”

  “I wasn’t about to go out in the snow barefoot,” he pointed out. But obligingly, he kicked his boots off. He went to reach for the hem of his sweater, but stopped and let his hands fall to the back of the couch. “I think if you want it off, you should do it.”

  There was a look in his eyes, Shay thought. She couldn’t tell if it was a challenge or an offer … maybe it was both. Her heart was practically lodged in her throat and she had to take short, shallow breaths just to get enough air into her lungs. But that was okay.

  Taking one small step, she put herself between his wide-spread thighs and fisted her hands in the bottom of his sweater. Staring into the rich, potent gold of his eyes, she dragged the sweater up.