That was too much. Drake surged to his feet, hurling the chair backwards across the room in the process. “I am not less!” he roared. “I don’t need her!”
“You need her so much you fear it. You maneuvered yourself into a position of control over her so that you could indulge your need without risk to yourself and then you sent her away so you would not have to appear vulnerable.”
For cathode tubes, Hal gave good analysis. That one stopped Drake in his tracks.
“She’s a shrimpy little thing,” he muttered. “I make two or three of her. I’m not afraid of somebody I can bench-press.”
But he was afraid. The philosophy “trust no one” had worked for him for years, but then the woman had cracked his system, just like her damn brother. She’d violated his inner defenses, insinuated herself inside him like a virus. She was in there right now, giving him that prissy look that made him want to tear her clothes off and give her graphic sexual commands and make her want, too, dammit, to prove that he wasn’t the only one who…needed.
Was he really afraid to offer her his heart if that was the price of getting hers? Was he willing to spend the rest of his life without her instead of accepting that where she was concerned, he would always be vulnerable?
“She did not make you weak, or less. She made you more.”
Drake snorted. “More feral? More insane?” God knew he’d behaved like a crazed lunatic with her. An insatiably sex-crazed lunatic. Insane was too mild a word.
“More than the sum of your parts.”
“She was just using me for sex.” Drake voiced his main grievance and it sounded ridiculous when he said it out loud, even to his own ears.
But it hurt. He’d worried that he would hurt her, and he was the one who’d had his heart torn out while she thanked him for a good time and walked away in search of hooker boots and vibrators and another lover, now that he’d shown her what she’d been missing. That wasn’t just insane, it was stupid. Only an unbelievably stupid man would show a woman like her what she’d been missing and then let her go to find it with somebody else.
“You did not offer her anything more. You cannot get what you are not willing to give.” Hal paused. “Perhaps you would prefer to listen to some music.”
Good. Drop the subject. Drop her. Move on.
A beat later, Pete Townsend began crooning a plaintive lament about the woman he’d lost and pretended not to miss at all, but his heartache kept following him.
With a savage oath, Drake stormed out of the house on a trajectory that took him past riding jacket and gloves, grabbed both, and slammed the door behind him. Outside, a high performance V-12 motorcycle engine roared to life.
Hal recorded his departure and the speed attained between the house and the front gate. He projected the time required to travel the distance to her residence and back and set the bathing pool to fill at her preferred temperature with the waterfall program on a repeating loop at the estimated time mark.
It had taken much longer than anticipated, but the proper course was now unfolding. With the necessary lifelong pair bond established, matters could proceed in an intelligent and efficient manner. Stability would be achieved. Offspring would follow.
Someday his creator would thank him for searching out and securing the one mate who was truly his match, but Hal was grateful he did not need breath. If he held his waiting for thanks, he would expire.
* * * * *
He was a black leather-clad knight on a sleekly designed steed that whispered of Italian engineering and universal danger.
He didn’t look chivalrous. He looked more the type to storm her castle and carry her off as booty than the type to wear her favor and fight for her honor. He wore leather and denim and heavy work boots.
It was impossible to tell if he’d shaved recently. A black helmet with a mirrored visor covered his head. A smaller matching helmet sat behind him, strapped down with a bungee cord.
He sat looking at Melinda for an eternity while she in turn tried to keep a peripheral eye on the rough-looking motorcyclist who’d stopped beside her on this stretch of interstate highway, without seeming to look in his direction.
Instead, she looked at the red light on her dashboard and tried not to think about how the steam billowing up from the hood of her practical Nissan sedan made him look like a demon lover rising from the pit of hell, conjured by her darkest longings and come to fulfill them all.
A good thing, because she had a lot of dark longings and they were all his fault. In fact, they’d built up a lot of pressure after being awakened and then left to simmer for a month.
The tap on her window made her turn her head.
He was gesturing at her to roll it down. She did.
The man folded his arms and leaned them on the edge of the lowered window. He was so close, so big.
Her breath caught. She could feel his pheromones infecting her central nervous system, hot-wiring her cerebral cortex and there was no telling what they might drive her to do. It didn’t disturb her. If he didn’t like whatever rash act biology drove her to, he was certainly able to defend himself. But she hoped he wouldn’t want to.
“Take off the helmet,” she said. “I want to kiss you.”
He took off the helmet and dragged his fingers through short, unruly dark hair. “I want you to get rid of this damned lemon of a car.” His low, growling voice rasped over her senses the way his square unshaven chin would rasp over her skin any minute now if she had her way.
“It’s a deal.”
Drake pulled her out of the car and into a kiss that made up for a month’s worth of lonely nights and frustrating dreams. It ended with her legs locked around his waist, his hands cupping her butt to hold her high and hard against an erection that threatened to split his jeans, torsos pressed together as close as clothing would allow, and it wasn’t nearly enough.
Melinda was yanking on his shirt, frantic to feel his bare skin under her hands, when a semi roared past.
She fisted her hands in the fabric of his shirt, wondering what had happened to his jacket. She’d yanked that open somehow, too, she supposed.
“We can stay here and get arrested,” Drake growled against her lips, “or you can renew your illicit relationship with my bike while I get us home.”
She dragged her lips away from his long enough to look at the Ducati Monster again. It seemed to smirk suggestively. A big vibrator with wheels and an attitude.
“There’s a second helmet,” she said.
“For you. You said I shouldn’t ride without one. Neither should you.”
“You were coming to get me?” Melinda tipped her head back far enough to look into his eyes. “What about the deal?”
“I want a new deal.”
She wiggled back and found herself half-laying against the door to her car with him still locked between her legs, supporting her weight. The metal was uncomfortably hot, but she could handle the heat. “Tell me,” she demanded.
“I want you.” Drake flexed his hips into the cradle of her pelvis and the want spilled through them both. It wasn’t the situation or pheromones or Mother Nature plotting to spread his survivalist sperm. It was something more.
“Not good enough. Tell me more.”
“I want you back.”
She arched against him, digging her heels into his lower back to press him harder against her and shuddered at the almost unbearable sensation of pressure that didn’t bring him nearly close enough. A month without him was far too long. “More,” she breathed.
“I want you to stay. I want to keep your idiot brother out of trouble. I want you in my bed every night.”
That was good, but not quite good enough. Melinda yanked up her red sleeveless sweater, revealing small, sensitive breasts and taut, budded nipples. She hauled his head down to them. “More, dammit. I want more, Drake.”
His mouth closed around one nipple and tugged, hard. Heat seared her skin. His lips razed a path of destruction over both breasts and up
her neck, leaving his hands marauding in their wake, fingers tugging on both nipples while she gasped and shimmered with pleasure.
“I want you to love me,” he whispered, feathering a kiss over her ear.
“I want more,” she whispered back. She slid one hand down into his jeans and found the sensitive, throbbing tip of him pearled with moisture. She stroked the slickness over the head of his penis and felt him shudder in reaction.
“I want you to love me,” he said again, tonguing the pulse point in her throat, “because I love you and if you don’t love me back, I don’t think I could stand it. The house is empty without you. I’m empty without you.”
Drake loved her. That was enough. That was everything.
“Ummm.” Wrapping arms and legs around him as tightly as she could, Melinda clung and shifted her weight onto him. “Put me on that motorcycle. Let it do lascivious things to me until you can do them yourself.”
He swung her around, stopped, swung her back. “Wait.”
Leaving her there against the car, he locked up the door, collected her keys and purse while she straightened her clothing and reached around him for the leather jacket she’d bought, secretly hoping, and crammed herself into it. He grabbed her up, started towards the bike. Then he stopped again, holding her wrapped around himself but not moving another step.
Oh. Right. It was her turn.
“I love you, Drake Trahern. I love you so much I ache inside for missing you. I need you like I need air. I was coming to tell you that.”
“And I was coming to get you.” He carried her to the bike, then set her down. He unstrapped the second helmet and handed it to her. While she put it on, he collected his own and settled it over his head.
“Were you going to carry me off?” Melinda asked, curious, leaving the visor up while she fastened the chin strap. “Because I kind of like the sound of that. Maybe we could pretend you’ve carried me away, protesting, and now you’re going to drag me back to your lair to make me your love prisoner and have your wicked way with me until you’ve convinced me to marry you and stay forever.”
She snapped her visor down. He snapped his into place a beat behind her, but not before she saw the wicked promise in his smile and the heat in his eyes. He was going to be very convincing.
Drake swung one muscled leg over and straddled the Monster. Melinda was right behind him.
The motorcycle roared to life and shot forward.
They were going home.
Chapter Twelve
For some reason, Melinda felt a strange blend of nerves and exhilaration building inside her as they entered the gate and headed towards the house. It still looked like a high-tech fortress, impressive in its sheer scope. It also looked familiar and welcoming and inside Hal would be waiting. For some reason she felt certain he’d be happy to see her again.
Nothing had ever felt so right but at the same time she felt on the edge of some ultimate finality and it wasn’t exactly comfortable. A little scary, in fact.
Whatever it was, Drake seemed to be feeling it, too. There was a new tension in the set of his shoulders as he came to a stop and turned off the bike. He planted his feet on either side of the motorcycle for stability and unstrapped his helmet, his every movement deliberate and very controlled.
The playful mood between them had evaporated and shifted into something different. Melinda swung her leg over to dismount and stood slightly to the side, watching Drake, as she unfastened the chin strap and lifted her helmet off. Their eyes met for a long moment and something in his gaze made her mouth go dry and her heartbeat speed up.
“Last chance,” Drake said. “You can still change your mind. But once you’re through that door, you’re mine and I’m never letting you go again.”
And that was the difference, she realized. This wasn’t a game anymore. They weren’t bound by the same set of rules that had made their lost weekend together a safe, contained bubble while their lives remained separate and untouched. This was the real thing. Figuring out the new rules that would define their relationship. Learning how to put two separate lives together and go forward as something different.
A part of her still wanted to run from the predatory gleam in his eyes, but it had already been too late to run away the first time she met him. Besides, she knew from experience what would happen when he caught her and she’d been aching for it for too long to tolerate any delay now.
She managed to keep her voice level while she told him, “I haven’t changed my mind.”
She stood her ground while he dismounted and came towards her. He took the helmet out of her hands and held it by the strap along with his, keeping one hand free. He used his free hand to take hold of her shoulder and turn her towards the door, pushing her slightly ahead of him.
“I’m not going to bolt,” she murmured, amused by the way he blocked her escape route. Humor eased the tension twisting her insides somewhat.
“I don’t take chances.”
Drake got them through the door and when it was closed behind them, he bent and placed the helmets on the floor to one side of it. Then he straightened and turned to face her. “Come here.”
Melinda obeyed, moving towards him until they were just touching and she had to tip her head back to look up at him.
“Take the jacket off.”
Oh, yes.Every muscle in her body contracted. Her heartbeat went uneven and she felt herself growing even wetter at his commanding tone. The faster she got her clothes off, the sooner he could touch her, there and everywhere.
Her fingers were too shaky to cooperate with her brain and the zipper balked at her mishandling, sticking stubbornly halfway undone.
She stared down at it in disbelief. Here she was, alone with the man she’d been fantasizing over every time she masturbated for the last month, the man she thought of every time she closed her eyes during the day or at night, the man she wanted with every nerve impulse in her body, and she couldn’t get her clothes off to jump him.
She closed her eyes and gave a half sigh, half scream of frustration.
“Having trouble?”
She opened her eyes again to see his calm, impassive face as he watched her struggle. He wasn’t unmoved, though. The hungry look in his eyes told her just how far from unmoved he was. The muscle along the side of his jaw was jumping and the way he stood told her he was on the edge of losing control.
And suddenly she was beyond the edge.
“Yes.” She yanked wildly at the sides of her jacket. “Get it off. All of it. Now.” The clothes were trapping her and keeping her from feeling him against her bare skin. She couldn’t stand it for another minute.
His hands pushed hers away so he could finish the task she’d started. Since she couldn’t seem to do anything else with them she did something useful instead, tangling her hands around his neck, in his hair, dragging his head down towards her so she could kiss him.
Drake got her zipper unstuck and the jacket off her, peeling her arms away from him one at a time to slide it free. Then he was hauling her knit vest up her torso and breaking the kiss long enough to yank it over her head.
“Yours, too,” she gasped out while her mouth was free. “Everything off.”
She ran her hands down the front of his jacket, slipped beneath it and undid the button on his jeans, leaving him to deal with zippers. He stripped away his jacket. She yanked his shirt up and then her hands touched bare skin and she lost concentration.
The feel of him, solid and warm and alive under her hands, electric and exotic and sexier than anything she’d ever imagined, stopped her dead.
“Drake.” Her hands slid along his muscled abdomen and up the wall of his chest, lost in the contact of flesh to flesh.
“Hang on.” With a speed and efficiency she’d admire later, he stripped away her remaining clothes and then his shirt was gone completely, too. She ran her hands down to his hips, clawing at his jeans. “Boots first,” he gritted out, grabbing her hands to stop her.
Boots. Right. Hard to get his pants off with those in the way. Melinda took some deep breaths and focused on not attacking him so he could get rid of the remaining obstacles. “Hurry,” she said unnecessarily.
“Bossy.” He got the laces undone and kicked the boots off. Then he finished the job she’d started on his jeans. “I think you need a reminder about who’s in charge.”
“Yes. Later.” She held back until he was completely naked and then she launched herself at him, nearly knocking him backwards. She wound arms and legs around him and practically climbed him, trying to align the right parts.
“Slow down. You’re not ready.”
Charlene TEGLIA - Dangerous Games(ellora) Page 14