by Sylvia Day
Nightmares.
The bastards. He was no longer safe from them in his sleep. They dug deep into his mind, finding his fears and feeding on them. He felt drained and on edge at the same time.
Never having met his foe unguarded before, he felt violated. Wretched. His stomach heaved.
Seeking the only true solace he had ever known, Aidan turned his head toward the low drone of the TV and saw Lyssa at his side, seated on the floor. It was dark, the blinds drawn, the only illumination coming from the flickering light of the television and the aquarium in the dining room. He reached for her, running his hand through the loose golden strands he loved. She moved, sliding slowly away, toward the floor…
…a dead weight.
The panic he’d recently retreated from flared anew, pounding through his blood until his heart was ready to explode. He leaped from the couch, barely catching her slumping body before it hit the floor.
“Lyssa!” He shook her violently. “Damn it, I told you to stay awake!”
Her eyelids fluttered, but her subconscious was already connected to the deadly Twilight.
The cry that tore from him was both desperate and inhuman. His nightmare wasn’t over.
It had only just begun.
Chapter 7
As icy shards tore into her flesh, Lyssa flailed in agony, her subconscious pulling free of the mechanical banging and insidious whispers that were tearing her mind apart. She gulped down a massive breath into tight lungs and opened her throat to scream. Instead, her mouth was covered, increasing her terror.
Struggling to breathe and desperate to evade the needles that struck her everywhere, she clawed at the unyielding arms that trapped and held her immobile.
Sucking in air through her nose, she smelled a scent that caused her eyes to fly open…
…and met darkly determined sapphire blue ones.
Panicked, she clung to the wet, hard body that held hers so rigidly. She gasped for breath, inhaling Aidan’s exhale as he swallowed her cries with the heat of his mouth.
Suddenly her surroundings became clear—the stone tile of her bathroom, the freezing spray from the showerhead behind her, the fully dressed form pressed so tightly to hers. She ceased her struggles, sagging into him, so relieved to be in safe arms after the horror of only a moment before.
He tore his mouth away, breathing harshly, his embrace so tight that no water slipped between them. The feel of his chest was warm, a stark contrast to the river of melted ice water that coursed down her back.
“I-it’s c-cold,” she complained, circling his powerful upper back with her arms.
Turning, he took the brunt of the water from her, the tensing of his jaw the only sign of his discomfort. Lyssa attempted to step away, to free her arms to adjust the temperature, but he held fast.
“L-let me t-turn up the h-heat.”
It took him a long moment to do as she asked, as if he was reluctant to release her. Reaching around him, Lyssa turned the knob. The water began to heat, and steam rose around them. Then she chanced another look up. A tic in his jaw matched his formidable scowl.
“I told you not to fall asleep,” he bit out.
“I didn’t mean to.”
Her arms wrapped his waist in a vain effort to warm up. Aidan moved then, his hands catching the hem of her shirt and tugging upward. If he hadn’t looked so formidable, she might have protested his forwardness. Or she might not have…
“You scared the crap out of me,” he muttered, intensely focused on stripping her bare.
She moved with him, taking his silent commands, understanding by his forcefulness that he was a man who bore the weight of power and responsibility with unusual finesse. Despite how her wet clothes clung to her skin, he had her undressed in no time at all. An expert. The absolute certainty that he undressed women often added to her sense of unrest.
“Yeah, well,” she began grumpily, “I got the crap scared out of me, too, so…mmpph—” She grunted as he tugged her into him and crushed her close. Her stiffened frame relaxed immediately, and she sank into his strength and the comfort he offered.
“I’ll take care of you,” he promised gruffly. “Don’t be scared.”
She almost cried. Unlike everyone else in her life who told her what she had to do to make herself feel better—see the doctor, take more meds, eat healthier—Aidan took the burden completely from her. She gave it to him gladly.
“I had the worst nightmare,” she confided. “There was pounding and banging against metal, grinding and scratching, and this god-awful wailing sound.”
“You can’t just drift into sleep.” He gave her a little shake to emphasize his words. “You’ve got to fall hard and fast into it.”
Tilting her head back, she caught the torment in his gaze, amazed to realize he cared about her. More than casually. “You scare me, too.”
“No.” Aidan shook his head. “You trust me. You need me.”
“That’s what’s scary.” She felt safe with him, her fear unable to affect her when he was in her arms. That dependence on something so new was frightening. Could she trust something she didn’t comprehend?
His lips brushed across hers, firm and delicious, the taste of him lingering, teasing her already heightened senses. Her tongue traced the curve of his lower lip, seeking more of it. The quiver of fear in her belly intensified, and then turned into something else.
He exhaled harshly and pulled away, resting his forehead against hers, his hair dripping water down her cheek. The mood around them altered, the anxiety she felt turning into a very different kind of desperation.
His eyes slid closed, then he began to free the buttons of his shirt. She stepped backward and gaped as a deep, strangely familiar heat spread through her chilled limbs.
Stacey kept a Chippendales’ calendar on the wall at the clinic. Not one of the men displayed on those pages could hold a candle to Aidan Cross. He was solid rippling muscle. Every line, curve, and plane flexing with latent power and pure masculine grace. He was more lean than bulk. More sinew than bulging mass.
“Gorgeous,” she breathed, before she could turn her brain on enough to keep her mouth shut. Chad had never once made her feel this hunger. She hadn’t even known it was possible to crave someone like this.
The look Aidan gave her in response to her praise was scorching, needy. And unmistakable.
She wasn’t a slouch in the figure department, but Aidan was perfection in a way that unsettled her. There was something about him, a foreign quality that called to her, a sense of being…more. More beautiful, more intense, more sexually charged. More than a mere man, though she couldn’t see where that thought came from. A god.
Suddenly shy, Lyssa turned slightly to the side.
When he caught her by the elbow and tugged her back around, she blinked in surprise.
“I’m looking at you,” he rumbled arrogantly.
She raised her brows. “Yeah, I’m looking at you, too.”
“Stop trying to hide.”
“Stop being so bossy.”
His gaze narrowed. Then he released her and reached for his belt. Thoughts of anything else were impossible when her brain was fully focused on him and the fact that he was about to be naked.
The end of the belt slapped against the wall when Aidan yanked it free. Despite the closed fly, the pants fell from his lean hips into a soggy puddle at his feet. Part of her brain wondered why his clothes were so damn big. The other part could care less, far more interested in the cock that curved upward to almost touch his belly button.
Her mouth went dry. Long, thick, and pulsing with veins, it was a wet dream come to life.
Where did you come from?
Your dreams.
And he was dripping wet and getting wetter. She giggled.
He leaned back and arched a brow, his mouth slightly raised in a half smile that urged her to cup his cheek. He was too arrogant and self-assured to take her momentary amusement as anything to do with the size of that impres
sive cock, and she loved him for it.
“Let’s get cleaned up,” he said, tugging her closer again. Then he reached for the liquid soap, squirted some into his palm, and went to work. On her body.
She jerked in surprise when his slick hands cupped her breasts. He tried to look innocent, but with the mischievous gleam in his eyes, it didn’t work. Never one to back down from a challenge, Lyssa scooped up a trail of bubbles from her tummy and grabbed his cock.
He arched a brow and washed between her legs.
She arched her own and tugged at his balls. Her chest rose and fell rapidly in response to how intimately and possessively he touched her. Aidan took note, adjusting his movements with unparalleled skill. There was none of the hesitation or silent query that other men displayed with a new partner. And she showed none with him, washing his cock and balls as if it was her right to do so.
Aidan laughed, the severity of his expression softening with obvious affection. “You’re a handful, Hot Stuff.”
“So are you.” She shot a pointed glance at her overflowing hands. “More than a handful.”
Leaning forward, he pressed a kiss to her forehead, the tender gesture so at odds with the sinful way he stoked her desire. As he moved around her, running his hands all over her, her eyes slid closed on a sigh. Her blood was hot and sluggish, her mind lost in the sensual spell he wove so well. Low and deep within her, she ached, clenching in emptiness and expectation of what she knew was coming.
If this was a dream, she didn’t want to wake up. Never in her life had she known wanting like this, a need so intense she was panting with it, her knees weakening until he was forced to hold her upright with easy strength.
“Was it spring break in Cabo?” she asked breathlessly.
“Huh?” He pulled back to look down at her, revealing half-lidded eyes that couldn’t hide the burning lust within.
“When we met. Cabo San Lucas. That’s the last time I remember that I can’t remember.”
“Ah…I get it. No.” Catching her shoulders, he spun her away from him, and a moment later, his strong fingers were rubbing shampoo into her scalp.
She turned into a boneless puddle. He knew just how to touch her, kneading the tense muscles of her shoulders and stroking the length of her spine until all the anxiety of her nightmare washed down the drain. She felt the calluses on his palms and the strength he wielded with such care. When he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her backward into the spray with him, she leaned against him with a trust she shouldn’t feel, but did.
“But we’ve had sex,” she persisted, shivering at the thought of what it must have been like. He was in no rush, taking his time, as if he had an eternity, as if time didn’t exist for him. If he took the same care when making love…
He licked the wet shell of her ear. “Something like that.”
Turning in his arms, Lyssa leaned her head back and met blue eyes fringed with thick, wet lashes. “Something like sex?”
“Yep. Wash me.” He thrust the bottle into her hands. “I want to feel your hands on me.”
She shook her head as she reached for the soap. She almost told him no, just to curb his arrogance, but she wanted to touch him. So much that her palms itched with the need.
With soap-slicked fingertips, she slid her palms across his chest, marveling at the feel of his skin stretched taut over muscles that were hard as stone. His eyes closed on a low groan, his hands cupping her hips, his head falling back in a gesture of supplication that took her by surprise. Aidan was wallowing in her caresses, absorbing them, relishing every time she lingered in an especially susceptible spot.
It was riveting, the sight of so large and dangerous a man turned to putty in her hands. And he was dangerous, she knew. There was something in his eyes. They were ancient, wizened, jaded beyond his years. And something in the way he watched her, the way he moved, the note of command in every casual phrase. This man was never without his guard. Yet here he was. Bared to her in more than his appearance.
So she indulged, taking her time, washing his front from his head to his toes, then turning him and paying the same attention to his rear, which was just as magnificent.
When he faced her again, Lyssa positioned him beneath the spray and shifted her fingers through his hair, making sure every bit of shampoo was gone. She was so much shorter than he was, she had to lift onto her tippytoes to reach him. The loss of balance forced her to lean against him, her breasts to his chest. The hard, heavy length of his erect cock pressed into her stomach, but he made no move to take things further.
“I think I’m clean.” He stilled her roving hands with his own before pushing her gently away.
Lyssa bit her lower lip in embarrassment. Nodding her agreement, she pushed open the floating glass door and reached for the towel closest to her. She didn’t bother to dry herself. Instead she wrapped the towel beneath her arms and moved to the linen closet, taking out a fresh towel, which she thrust backward without turning her head. She heard the knobs turn and the water stop.
“Now you don’t want to look at me?” he asked softly, his fingers curling around hers, sending sharp awareness up her arm.
She tugged free and moved toward the door, restless and edgy with confusion and unsatisfied arousal. She didn’t know what to make of the fact that he had touched her so intimately, then pulled back. The hardness of his cock betrayed him, as did the dark hunger in his gaze, but he’d put on the brakes.
So why was he here at her house, driving her crazy, if he didn’t want to get laid?
“I’ll give you some privacy,” she muttered.
Her hand was reaching for the knob when Aidan caught her in a full-body embrace—his arms pinning hers, his bare chest behind her, his erection an unmistakable pressure against her lower back.
“Talk to me.” His lips were hot against her neck.
She shuddered with the force of her craving, her heart leaping into a mad rhythm.
“What’s the matter, Lyssa?” One arm crossed upward between her breasts, his biceps bulging beneath her gripping palms, his fingers angling her jaw toward his waiting mouth. He kissed her at the same moment he rolled his hips with practiced grace, inundating her from all sides with the feel of him.
“I was trying to save my sanity,” he whispered into her mouth, “not discourage you.”
Moaning, she spent the space of one breath resisting him, and then she gave in, her tongue meeting his, then chasing his, as he advanced and retreated with deep licks.
“More,” she demanded, her nails in his flesh.
His hand at her throat shook. “Not in here. Take me to your bed.”
“I’m not sure I can make it.” She writhed against him, stroking that thick, hard cock with the upper curve of her buttocks.
“It’s on the other side of the door.”
“Too far.”
He bent his knees, notching himself between the cheeks of her ass, and began to rub against her. His free hand touched her thigh, then slid up beneath her towel. A hungry sound vibrated against her back when he cupped her wet pussy.
“You’re so slick and hot,” he purred. “I could slide into your cunt from behind. Ride you hard, right here, just the way you like it. Just the way I like it.” His fingers mimicked the actions he described, slipping into her, pumping knuckle-deep and fast.
“Yes…” Her head lolled against his shoulder, her lips parted, wanting more of him. She licked at him desperately, her tongue flickering, trying to taste him. “Do it.”
“I could bend you over the counter, facing our reflections. You could watch me take you.” The growl that rumbled up from his chest was pure sexual hunger. His coarse words made her nipples hard, made her pussy quiver around his fingers, made her cry out softly.
“Aidan.”
“But I won’t, Lyssa. Not this time. This time I want you naked and spread out on a bed for my pleasure.”
As his skin heated with his desire, the scent of him, spicy and rich, filled her nost
rils. It was achingly familiar, making her womb clench tight in recognition. His hand slid from her neck and cupped her breast, squeezing it, making it swell. Her knees gave out, but he held her tightly. All the while he fucked her mouth with those delicious thrusts of his tongue, and urged his hips against her in a wicked imitation of what she really wanted.
“I’m going to make you come in a thousand different ways,” he promised. “Around my fingers, against my lips, around my cock. I’m going to wear you out, exhaust you. You’ll sleep like the dead…When I let you sleep.”
She whimpered. She had never in her life been this hot for sex.
“I can’t wait.” His words were a dark threat that excited her. “And I won’t. Take me to your bed so we can get started. I want you comfortable so we can take our time.”
“I—I can’t walk.”
Aidan’s fingers left her, then he bent and lifted her. “Open the door.”
She stretched her arm out behind her, reaching blindly for the knob, her mouth pressing feverish kisses to his throat.
“It might go faster if you looked,” he said with warm amusement.
“Then I’d have to stop nibbling on you.”
“But there are so many other parts of me to nibble on.”
Lyssa turned her head just long enough to open the door. Aidan stepped back as it swung inward, the sound of his laughter spilling out into the bedroom along with puffs of steam. He closed the distance between the bathroom and the bed in just a few long-legged strides. When he set her down, she scrambled to her knees and threw herself into him. He didn’t budge an inch with the impact.
“Hot Stuff,” he said, his smiling lips moving against her temple. “You’re always hard-charging.” With one steely arm supporting her back, he reached between her legs again. “Time to take you down a notch.”
She moaned, her eyes clenched shut against the heat that spread all over her body, first in a wave of goose bumps and then in a mist of sweat. The nearly overwhelming sensation she had of deep, intimate familiarity combined with the here and now of a gorgeous man making love to her was too much. When Aidan slid a long, callused finger inside her, she panted for air and dug her nails into his forearms.
