The shadowy figure abruptly disappeared, and then the bench with the man making the bomb disappeared as well. Player groaned and threw one arm over his eyes and swore in his native language. “Damn it, Zyah,” he said finally.
She ignored him and went to the bathroom to get a cool washcloth for his head, just as she had every night for the past few nights. Kneeling beside him, she wiped off the little beads of sweat. “It wasn’t as bad this time. You’re getting better.”
“Or you’re just getting faster.”
“I’m really good,” Zyah said. “Dancing around the room, and you missed it.”
He groaned. “That’s not funny.”
“It wasn’t meant to be. I thought I was really sexy when I danced. Most men think I’m sexy. You’re the exception, it seems.” She tried to tease him. Make it humorous when she’d been so afraid. The ticking of the clock had been terrifying.
He took his arm away from his eyes. Now they were piercing blue, icy daggers. “That’s really not funny.”
She wiped down his throat. “You’re in a foul mood, but then you usually are when you’re around me. You don’t like me. You don’t have to. I’m one of those girls. You apologized and all, but you didn’t mean it. We fucked all night, over and over.” She forced herself to say the words as crudely as possible, wanting them imprinted in her brain. “I get it. Some men think women who do that sort of thing are nasty girls or something. I don’t know. Somehow, it’s okay for the men but not for the women.”
She avoided looking into his eyes when she said it because, honestly, just saying the sentiment aloud turned her stomach. Still, it was true. She’d come across so many men who thought that way. Not that she was promiscuous, far from it, but she didn’t judge other women and didn’t feel they should be judged. She wasn’t even certain she believed that was the reason he didn’t want to be around her. She hadn’t found that in him. He didn’t seem judgmental. She didn’t know what the reason was. Only that he didn’t want her. Maybe she just needed a reason, any reason. It was just that he kept pushing her away.
He caught her wrist. “Zyah. Look at me. You don’t believe that.”
She didn’t answer him. She wasn’t going to get into an argument. Actions spoke far louder than words, and so far, he could barely stand to look at her. “Let go. I have to get the washcloth cold again. You’re burning up.”
He swore again and pushed into a sitting position. She really avoided looking at him because he was all corded muscle. No one should have that kind of muscle. She remembered tracing every single one of them with her tongue. Ashamed, she turned away from him and slipped off the bed. Ordinarily, she hurried to the bathroom, so she could make his skin cooler, make him more comfortable. Now, she took her time, not wanting to get back to him so fast, needing a few moments to get herself back under control.
She could do this. She was strong. She repeated the mantra to herself over and over. She just had to get through a few more days. His brain injury was healed. It was just the nightmares. She had to find a way to stop the nightmares and the migraines. If she could do that . . . He was getting stronger, although as long as he was there, her grandmother was safe. She had to keep that in mind. Torpedo Ink stayed close because they stayed near Player.
Player had a pillow behind his head, but he was sitting up, sheet pulled up to his hips. She tried not to look at his body. He wore something, she saw the edging just above the single sheet covering him. It wasn’t much, and one leg was out. She knew his body. Every inch of it. Still, she averted her eyes and handed him the washcloth rather than wipe his face, neck and chest the way she normally would have.
“I’ll get a towel.” She was suddenly aware of her own lack of clothing. What if he thought she was coming on to him? She always wore a racerback tank and little shorts. Long pants twisted around her legs and drove her nuts when she slept. Mostly, she slept in the nude. Not that she’d do that with Player in her bed, and anyway, she was sitting up in a chair most of the night now.
“Zyah.” He tried to catch her wrist and missed. “For fuck’s sake, sit down next to me. You have been every damn night. What you’ve been thinking is pure bullshit, and it doesn’t even make sense. So, for the love of God, will you stop making my head hurt worse and get your sweet little ass over here before I have to get up and get you?”
She stood in the middle of the room frowning at him. “You are an ass. A complete and utter ass. I have no idea why I ever thought you were anything but an ass.” She had to do something to save herself, because after seeing his childhood and spending every night with him for four straight weeks, she was so in love with him she couldn’t stand herself.
He threw back the sheet and was out of the bed so fast she barely had time to turn to sprint for the door. She even squealed like a little girl, but muffled the sound with her hand just in case she woke her grandmother, which was unlikely since she was downstairs.
Player caught her around the waist, tossed her over his shoulder so she was upside down and marched back to the bed. She should have protested, should have done something, anything at all, to stop him, but a million butterflies took wing. Her sex clenched, wept with sheer need. She wanted him. She’d wanted him every time she thought about him. It was a sin. It was so wrong. He was her obsession.
He threw her easily right into the center of the mattress and came down on top of her before she could move, pinning her down. Zyah went very still. He might have had a brain injury, but Steele had somehow miraculously healed him. Now the rest of his body was working just fine. She knew because she felt every single inch of him hard and tight against her. She knew his body, all those defined muscles, the wide shoulders, the deep chest that went into that impressive rib cage and narrowed into his hips. His cock was beautiful. She knew because she’d worshipped him with her hands and mouth. With her body. She could still taste him. Feel him inside her.
At night, when she was alone, she still felt him sliding into her, pushing through her tight folds, his piercing blue gaze staring into hers like he was seeing into her soul. He’d been a miracle, a feast of pure pleasure she hadn’t thought possible, and there was no forgetting the many ways he had taken her, shocking her at times but always giving her such pleasure, she had been more than willing to repeat the experience again and again with him.
He caught her wrists and held them down against the mattress. Even that, the way he shackled her wrists and pinned her, like a captive, his grip unbreakable yet so incredibly gentle she knew he wouldn’t leave one single mark on her skin. She almost wanted him to. When they’d had one night together, he’d been wild, leaving marks of possession all over her with his hands and his teeth. He would go from gentle to rough. From sweet to wild. She loved every single second with him. He’d set up such an addiction that even now, knowing he held himself away from her, her heart beat wildly and her body went liquid with urgent hunger.
“I know I hurt you with the careless shit I said to you.”
His blue eyes stared directly into hers, so that it was impossible to look away no matter how much she wanted to. It didn’t matter that she was hurt and even angry with him—he was always going to be that man she responded to. His eyes were no longer cold but fiery blue flames, fierce like the wild, turbulent, out-of-control lover she’d been with that first night.
She was over the things he’d said that morning. So over them, but she’d let him think that was the cause of her hurt. What would her excuse be now?
The intensity of that blue flame burned right through every shield she might have attempted to put up. Her body responded to that look. She responded. She couldn’t just blame it on her body. She could feel the flames licking over her skin like a million heated tongues. He wasn’t doing one single thing other than holding her down and staring into her eyes, yet she could feel his mouth moving over her bare skin. She tried to hold back a moan.
There was his vo
ice. Like velvet. Brushing along every nerve ending. He knew how to use it. Compelling. Commanding. While he spoke to her, his thumb caressed the inside of her wrist right over her pounding pulse, sweeping back and forth in a mesmerizing rhythm that robbed her of her ability to breathe. At the same time, one of his legs slid in between hers, pushing them apart.
“I swear I had no idea what I was saying or doing that night. I was so damn tired, so many hours without sleep and I’d held an illusion for too long. You were the best thing that ever happened to me. You still are the best thing that ever happened to me.”
He didn’t wait for a reply. He simply took her mouth, and the earth itself spun so fast it fanned the flames rising between them. The fire burned hot, a whirlwind, a storm that rushed over her so that she had to have more. Needed more. She opened herself to him. Gave herself to him. There was no holding back. There hadn’t been before, and there couldn’t be now.
Player released her wrists and caught her tank, tugging at it. “Is this a favorite? Get rid of it, or it’s gone. I need your tits, baby. I’ve been looking at them for weeks. Thinking about them. Dreaming about them.” He dragged the tank over her head and tossed it away.
The sensation of the night air on her suddenly exposed breasts was shockingly sensual. The way the blue flames in his eyes leapt and burned over her added to the fire rushing through her veins and roaring between her legs.
His hands tore at her shorts next. “Don’t want anything between us. Not anything. I wake up with the taste of you in my mouth, and go to sleep with you there.” He ripped the shorts off her hips with one vicious jerk and discarded the scraps.
Zyah couldn’t stop the soft little moan from escaping this time. Her hips jerked, and she felt her body slick with welcome for him. She had those same sensations every morning, every evening, and she was so grateful she wasn’t alone. Right at that moment, it didn’t matter if it was just sex or not, she was desperate for him.
“Sometimes I lie on this bed with the scent of you in my lungs and I can actually feel my cock sliding into your hot mouth or your tight little pussy and think I’m going to go insane if I don’t have you again.”
Those blue eyes burned right into hers until she felt as if he branded her soul. He wasn’t saying anything she hadn’t felt night after night. The memory of his cock stretching her lips, heavy on her tongue. His taste. Inside her. Deep. Even there, stretching her until she felt so full and taken. Until she felt as if he’d written his name inside her.
He lowered his head again, and his mouth was on her neck, his teeth nipping and then catching, so that her body shuddered as the fleeting pain somehow sent fire streaking through her. His tongue was velvet, his lips soft as he kissed the sting away. He kissed and nipped his way to her breast, his hands cupping the weight as he slid down her body.
“I love your tits, baby.” His hands were rough, squeezing and massaging.
She loved the way he touched her as if he couldn’t get enough, as if he was in such a hurry to take every inch of her in. She caught at his hair, all that beautiful, messy, untamed hair that made him look like a fallen angel. Her nails slid down his back, long streaks of fire, to urge him on.
His mouth found the top of her right breast while his hands caressed underneath both breasts. His mouth was hot, lips velvet soft to match the gentle fingers stroking along the curves. Then his teeth nipped, and his fingers bit into her, kneading possessively. She arched into him, giving him more, wanting more. Those lightning strikes kept streaking like fiery arrows from her breasts to her clit, so that she clenched and clenched. Her hips bucked. Her sex wept.
“I love your mouth, Player,” she whispered. “Your hands on me.”
“My teeth. My cock. You fuckin’ love my body, baby, the way I love yours.”
She did. There was no denying that. He was nibbling at the sides of her breasts now. First one, then the other. Avoiding her nipples. She was dying for him to touch her there. To settle his mouth there. She had more than generous breasts. She remembered how much time he spent on them, worshipping them. He had even dribbled wax on them and slowly peeled it off. He’d wanted to eat off her breasts. He told her he wanted her to dance for him with nipple clamps on and that he’d have his brother, Ice, a jeweler, make her a beautiful set, one of a kind, with bells, just for her, to go with her anklet of bells.
She slid her hand down his body, trying to reach his cock, but he was too far. She could only dig her nails into his back and the tops of his hips to try to get him to where she wanted him to be.
He laughed softly against her breast, his breath warm. “Do you think you’re going to gain control by digging your nails into me? I like that you want me, Zyah. I love that you’re making that little keening mewl that says your sweet little pussy is hot as hell and slick for me. My cock is pressed against your thigh. You feel how hot it is? How hard? That’s all yours. But you’re going to wait until I take my time and claim every fuckin’ inch of you.”
She loved the way he did that. He talked to her like that, as if he owned her. As if her body belonged to him. He talked dirty. He was rough. He was gentle. She needed his kind of wild sex to feel alive. He brought out a side of her that, when they came together, made her truly complete. He made her feel beautiful and powerful. She loved being his.
“Well, let me have it.” She leaned into him and bit his shoulder and then soothed the sting with her tongue. She loved his skin. The taste of him. “Do you know how good I could make you feel?” She didn’t have to deliberately make her voice sultry; it was already that way—for him—for Player. Tempting him. Wanting him.
He retaliated, biting the left side of her breast and then the right, sending flaming arrows straight to her sex so that her hips bucked and she cried out. His tongue traced her areola, a long, slow sweep, very gentle. It felt so good she closed her eyes. He moved to her other breast, repeating that same sweet action, his tongue a wicked weapon, teasing her senses, drugging her until she couldn’t think properly.
His tongue went to her right nipple, flicking, circling. She found herself holding her breath. Arching her back. Trying to push her breast into the heat of his mouth. His hand came up to cup her breast, his thumb and finger finding her left nipple while his tongue worked her right. She wasn’t certain where to concentrate. His finger brushed her nipple. His thumb strummed as if it were a guitar string. Her belly tightened in anticipation. Liquid heat spilled between her legs.
“Player. Please. You’re killing me.”
He laughed softly. “You deserve it, woman. You’ve been killing me for days. Weeks.”
He blew on her nipple. Then his mouth covered her breast and sucked hard. Really hard. He drew her flesh into that scorching-hot cavern, teeth scraping, tugging, biting down until she wanted to scream with absolute desire, her hips bucking, one leg trying to steal out from under him to wrap around his thigh. His fingers caught her left nipple and pinched down slowly but kept going, taking her breath until she was arching up as high as she could, pushing into his hand and mouth at the same time. When he released her, he kissed his way from one breast to the other, the blue flames in his eyes nearly glowing as he surveyed the marks he’d left behind.
“You aren’t going to scrub me off you so easily, Zyah,” he said, satisfaction in his voice and in every line of his face.
Before she could respond, he bent his head to her left breast, repeating the same thing, exactly the same way, not hurrying. She thought she might come undone. Unravel. She was unraveling. She was so desperate to get off that she slid her hand down her body between them to try to give herself some relief.
Player caught her wrist. “Naughty girl. I’m going to have to punish you for that. You can just wait. I’m getting there. Put your hands on your breasts. I like to see you work your tits while I eat you. Then when you get wild and can’t hold on to them, they bounce all over the place. It’s a beautiful sight.”<
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Player flicked her nipples with his tongue, bit gently down one more time and then kissed his way down her belly, sliding slowly between her legs, keeping his body wedged there so she couldn’t close her thighs. His shoulders were wide, and it felt as if he were stretching her legs to capacity, although she knew better. The night air was cool, and she was so hot that the contrast fed the flames, adding to the roaring need coiling tighter and tighter.
He settled himself and lifted his head to look at her. His eyes. He stole her willpower—her heart—with those eyes of his.
“I’ve been starving for you.” He stated it very simply and then bent his head to her right thigh.
His tongue was like velvet on her inner thigh. Up high, close to her heat. Close to where she so desperately needed him. She knew it wasn’t going to be that simple. He wanted to make a statement. A claiming. She couldn’t blame him. The first chance she had, she was going to do a little claiming of her own.
Zyah closed her eyes, crying out when his teeth marked her, when his mouth sucked at her tender skin, leaving behind a signature going up her inner thigh. It wasn’t enough on her right thigh; he had to duplicate it on her left. Then his mouth was on her lips, his tongue tracing them, flicking and teasing, sipping at the taste of her. Circling her inflamed clit. He flattened his tongue and pressed hard. Circled again. Plunged his tongue deep. Flicked. Strummed. Plunged.
She found herself hissing his name. Demanding. Trying to find purchase with her feet to push her body into his mouth. Nothing she did or said mattered. Player took his time. Then he suddenly shifted his body, catching her thighs and pressing her legs over his arms. His mouth covered her slit, and her world went red and orange. Fiery flames. No oxygen. He devoured her just like he’d said he would. He was relentless. Merciless. He was unashamedly greedy.
Reckless Road Page 18
