Wild Card

by Lora Leigh

  He turned away from her a second, obviously hiding something or fighting to control his temper, she wasn’t certain which. When he turned back to her, she took an instinctive step away from him.

  “You’re running from yourself, Sabella. Why?”

  In a sudden moment of insight, Sabella knew he wasn’t going anywhere, and his expression assured her that she couldn’t force it. Rory had hired him, and he owned half of the business. He had as much right to loan out the apartment as she did. And he could hire anyone he wanted to hire.

  She and Nathan had agreed to that before they ever married. Should anything ever happen to him, then half of the business that he had built would go to Rory, because he knew their father would never leave the other man anything.

  She was stuck with Noah until he decided on his own that it was time for him to leave, and that was all there was to it.

  “I’m not running from anything except a man that’s taking too damned much for granted. You’re not a Malone, Mr. Blake. You’re nothing here and you never will be.” She turned and took the first step to the door. One step, and in the next second she found herself against the door, firmly, if gently, held in place by the big, hard body suddenly pressing her into it.

  Her breath caught. She felt surrounded, suddenly hot and weak. His head was beside hers, his cheek rubbing against her hair, his hands holding her in place as the feel of his erection pressed into her lower back.

  “Why are you so frightened of this?” he whispered then. “Or are you just too frightened to live again?”

  “Live for you?” she scoffed. “You don’t measure a tenth of what my husband was, and I didn’t need him to live. I sure as hell don’t need you to do it.”

  “And does Sykes make you feel alive?” he asked her. “Does he tell you how perfect you are? Touch you like you’ll break and whisper roses and candy?” He sneered. “Is that really what you need, Sabella?”

  “You bastard!” She fought him.

  She twisted around, her knee slamming up, only to find Noah lifting her, parting her thighs until the thick, hard length of his erection was pressed against her and his lips were slamming down over hers.

  The rasp of his beard and mustache was unfamiliar. His lips were hard, hungry. They took hers, he didn’t ask, he didn’t hesitate. As though he knew a need inside her that she didn’t know herself.

  It wasn’t a gentle kiss. It was ravenous. It was laced with such hunger and elemental lust that it struck a flame to some hidden spark inside her own body.

  Her body suddenly had a mind of its own. Her arms latched around his neck, her fingers dug into the thick, wild mane of his hair, and she was dragging him closer.

  It had been so long. So long since a man had touched her body, since the need for touch, other than Nathan’s, had even been a thought in her mind. And now, it was exploding inside her.

  A sharp, furious cry tore from her throat as his tongue pierced the seam of her lips, licking at hers before drawing back. She pulled at his hair harder, nipped his lower lip, bit at it. Within a breath she was flattened between the door and his body and it was all over but the hunger and the want driving inside her.

  One hard hand tangled in her hair, jerked her head back. He wasn’t easy, and she didn’t want easy. She wanted the burn and the force and the impossible demand rising between them.

  Her knees tightened on powerful lean flanks, her hips moved, writhed against his, driving his cock harder against her through the layers of denim separating them.

  She heard him growl something, groan something. His hand tightened in her hair and he dragged her head back farther, his lips at her chin, her jaw, nipping and licking.

  “Ride me,” he snarled at her ear, his beard rough against the lobe as she twisted against him. “This is what I want, Sabella. Right here.” One hand gripped her butt, holding her closer as she ground herself on his erection.

  The seam of her jeans bit into her clit, the spike of sensation making her crazy for more. She was wet and growing wetter. She could feel her clit swelling, her sex heating and growing slick, saturated with her need.

  “Ride me, Sabella,” he bit out again. “Oh yeah, baby, rub against me.” He was rubbing against her, his hips thrusting against her, digging his flesh harder between her thighs.

  She lowered her hands and gripped the material of his T-shirt, dragging it up his back. She had to touch. She had to feel his flesh beneath her hands. She whimpered as his lips came back to hers, as she pulled and jerked at the material until he suddenly shifted, drawing his upper body back just enough to tear the shirt over his head before he was back to her. Kissing her. One hand in her hair, the other kneading her ass.

  Oh yes. This was what she needed. The heat of his body seemed to sink into hers. She could feel him burning against her palms as she let them stroke over his shoulders. She could feel a crisscrossed roughness, the scars she had known marked his body. Her nails scraped over his flesh before he nipped at her lips again and she dug her nails into his flesh with a cry and held on.

  Because they were moving. The world was twisting, tilting, until she felt her back meet the leather of the couch and heard the thump of his duffel bag as he pushed it to the floor and came over her.

  His lips never left hers. He didn’t give her a chance to think and she didn’t want one. His hands gripped her shirt, tore it out of her jeans, and before she could process the action he had it and her bra above her breasts.

  A hard, peaked nipple felt his beard first. It scraped over the tip, drawing her back into a arch a second before his lips brushed it, then his mouth took it.

  His hips pressed harder into the vee of her thighs. He rode her mercilessly, taking her despite the material separating them, driving her closer to a brink she hadn’t known in years. Her hips lifted to him, writhing back, rubbing into him as her head dug into the cushions of the couch and her fingers dug into his shoulders, holding him closer.

  It was so good. So hot and liquid. Little starbursts were exploding before her eyes, sensations ripping across her nerve endings.

  “Now.” He jerked back, grabbed her head roughly and lowered his chest to her. “Touch me, damn you. Touch me, Sabella.”

  She bit him. Her teeth buried into hard, thick muscle before the wildness of the act took over. She nipped at the hard flat discs of his male nipples, licked at them, sucked at one. Her hands roamed over his back, only dimly acknowledging the scars there.

  His hips jerked against her, ground against her. And she wanted those jeans off. Wanted hers off. She wanted the thick, heavy length she could feel tearing into her. Thrusting and driving her past the point of pleasure or pain.

  The blood was rushing through her body, pounding through her head. She was close. So close. She bit at his chest again, feeling him stiffen, hearing his curse.

  Then he was pulling away from her, jerking back, his savage gaze slicing to the back door of the apartment as he jerked her bra and T-shirt over her breasts.

  And still, she heard the pounding.

  “Belle? Belle Malone? It’s Sheriff Grayson. Belle. Open the door or I’m going to open it myself.”

  Noah raised her to a sitting position as she tried to pull her shattered senses back into some semblance of order. She watched as, still shirtless, Noah stomped across the apartment, into the kitchen, to the door that led to the side of the garage and the deck.

  The scarring on his back wasn’t atrocious, but it was painful to see. On his left shoulder was a tattoo, a black sun pierced by a scarlet sword. It looked as tough and sexy as the rest of him. And just as dangerous.

  She could feel a chill washing over her now. Icy reality flooding her system as Rick Grayson stepped into the kitchen, his brown gaze finding her immediately as he kept a careful distance between himself and Noah.

  “You okay, Belle?” His eyes were narrowed, his hand resting carefully on the butt of his gun as Noah closed the door carefully.

  Sabella stared at Noah. His eyes were wilder
than before, almost lighter, terrifying, lit with an inner fire that had her heart racing in excitement and in panic.

  “Belle? Why don’t you come on outside with me, talk to me for a bit.” Rick’s eyes hadn’t left Noah.

  Sabella shook her head before pushing her fingers through her hair and giving a hard, mocking laugh. Rick had talked to her like that at the funeral.

  Just let me and Sienna hold you here, Belle. He and his wife had stood on each side of her as she swayed next to Nathan’s casket. It’s gonna be just fine here, Belle. See. It’s all good, honey. We’re just gonna stand here a minute and then it will be over with.

  Rick was her best friend’s husband. Sienna had stood with her, cried with her, hurt with her. And Rick had talked to her just like that. Like a child that needed a careful hand.

  “Rick, meet Noah Blake.” She waved her hand to Noah as he stood against the kitchen counter, his arms crossed against his bare chest, his back turned away from her. “Rory hired him.”

  Rick watched her carefully as she forced herself to her feet. She didn’t want to move. She wanted to curl herself into a ball and rock away the pain rising inside her.

  “Belle, honey, your chin looks bruised,” Rick stated. “You come outside with me for a minute now, okay.”

  Belle rubbed at her chin and frowned before moving to the mirror hanging on the wall. She brushed her fingers over the little bruise, then to her neck where the faint redness and another mark was now showing.

  “He has his own bruises then,” she said, turning to Rick. “He bit me. And I bit him back.”

  Rick’s eyes narrowed on her. She felt as though she were going to shatter as she picked up her purse and moved to the door.

  “We don’t need to talk, Rick,” she told him.

  “I think we do, Belle.” Rick moved between her and Noah. A buffer? She looked at Noah, saw his eyes, the warning in them. No, no one would ever get between them and survive unless he allowed it.

  For now, he was just standing there, watching, waiting.

  She turned back to Rick. “You interrupted a hell of a make-out session and I appreciate it.” Her smile was brittle, shaky. “But it wasn’t his fault. I think I might have bit him first. But you can ask his opinion if you like. Personally, I’m going home.”

  “Belle, someone called in a report that you were being harassed by this man.” Rick caught her arm as she moved to pass him. “I have my deputies outside that door. You’re protected here, honey, you know that. Do you want me to make this man leave?”

  She stared back at him in shock. “You what?”

  “You heard him, Sabella,” Noah drawled. “He thinks I’m harassing you and wants to toss my ass in jail for it. Do you want to give him the chance?”

  “Shut up.” Rick rounded on him, his expression tightening angrily. “Mister, I don’t know you, all I know is you’ve already caused trouble with one citizen of this town. And I don’t care who you are. But you won’t be harassing Belle.”

  “He’s not harassing anyone or anything but my patience,” Sabella snapped. “For God’s sake, Rick, use your eyes instead of your suspicions. Look at his shoulders.” She gripped the doorknob and shot Noah a cold, hard look. “Arrest me for the bloody scratches there, but he hasn’t done anything you need to know about.”

  This was between the two of them. Her and Noah. She knew that. She wouldn’t make the mistake of drawing others into it. Not now.

  As the door closed behind her Noah turned to the sheriff and wanted to smile mockingly. Rick Grayson was a damned good man. Former marine. He believed in the law. Believed in the county he worked to protect. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t on Noah’s list to check out, or that he trusted the other man now. Noah had learned all about broken trust a lifetime ago.

  “You have any identification?” Rick was glaring at him.

  Noah lowered his hand, ignoring the careful manner in which Rick gripped the butt of his gun. He pulled his wallet free of his back pocket and opened it before extending it to the sheriff.

  Rick took the identification, looked it over, and handed it back to him slowly.

  “Belle’s a friend, Mr. Blake.” It was a warning. “We look after our friends here.”

  “Do you really?” Noah arched his brow mockingly. He hadn’t seen much taking care where Sabella was concerned. “Well, Sheriff Grayson, that’s real nice to know. I’m sure it comforts Sabella at every turn.”

  Rick stared back at him coolly. “Don’t hurt her, or you’ll deal with me,” he finally stated before heading to the door. Once there, he paused and turned back to Noah, staring at him hard. “Be careful, Mr. Blake, I’m a bad enemy to make. And playing games here would definitely make an enemy of me.”

  Rick opened the door then and left. The door closed behind him softly, but the effects left in the wake were clashing.

  Noah stared down at his hands. Scarred hands. He’d held on to Sabella as though she weren’t as fragile, or delicate, as he knew she was. He had bruised her, and in their entire relationship, he had always been careful to never mark her soft flesh.

  He rubbed at the back of his shoulder, then glimpsed the smear of blood on his finger. He felt the sensitivity of his lower lip, the mark she had left on his chest. She had made him wild. They had made each other wild. As though a carefully sealed lid had been released on both their lusts.

  He would make certain it was released again.

  Sabella slammed into the house. The heavy oak door echoed with the violence of the act and pierced her nerve endings with a shattering surge of electric tension. She could feel the electrical sensations racing over her flesh from the back of her head, sizzling through her brain and creating an overwhelming surge of panic.

  Oh God. What had she done?

  She dropped her purse to the floor and raced upstairs. She tore the greasy clothes from her body, dumped them in the trash can, and adjusted the shower water as hot as she could stand it before stepping beneath the spray and scrubbing at her hair, her skin.

  She wanted the feel of him off her body. The smell of him out of her pores. She could still smell him. She could still feel him.

  She leaned her head against the shower wall and breathed in roughly, a sob tightening at her chest. Another man had touched her. His hands had cupped her breasts, his lips had sucked at her nipples, and his cock had rubbed, hard and heavy, against her clit, and she had been on the verge of begging for more.

  “Nathan.” She pressed her face into the shower wall and let the cry free.

  Guilt seared her heart. It burned into her soul like a conflagration she couldn’t quench. She ached. She ached inside for the man she had never imagined being without, and she ached on the outside for the touch she had been denied for so long.

  She slid to the floor of the tub, pulling her knees to her chest, and lowered her head, the sobs tearing through her as she rocked herself.

  My witch. Go síoraí. Love me, Sabella. Love me forever.

  His voice drifted through her memories and the cries came harder. She loved. She loved until she couldn’t understand how she drew a breath, second by second, without his presence in her life. Without his touch, his kiss.

  Six years. She sobbed at the thought, her head falling back to the shower wall as the water pounded around her. Hot as her tears. But neither eased the blistering guilt burning inside her. Her husband had been dead for six years, and still the vows they had shared held her, tormented her.

  The tears left her hurting more, because the tears didn’t help. She could cry an ocean of them and Nathan wouldn’t suddenly be there, pulling her into his arms and easing the grief that sometimes seemed to eat her alive.

  And now, the guilt.

  She picked up the washcloth and soap and she washed again. She scrubbed until she felt raw, and still, another man’s touch was on her flesh, and still, she was swollen, aching for release.

  “You left me, Nathan,” she finally sobbed into the steam gathering around her. “You
promised, Nathan. You promised you would never leave me.”

  He had sworn he would always hold her, always surround her. He wasn’t holding her. For over six years he hadn’t held her and still the pain could rip inside her, as though it had been yesterday. As though he had betrayed her and just not returned to her. As though he still breathed, and didn’t touch her.

  And the tears poured, like rain, like sorrow. Like the need for the touch, the kiss, and the release from another man.

  When no more tears could be shed, when the water grew cold and she knew she had to move, Sabella dragged herself from the floor of the shower. She wrapped a towel around her and stepped onto the thick fluffy rug that covered the floor.

  She moved to the mirror and looked into it. She saw then why Rick had stared so hard at her face. The reddened rasp on her skin from Noah’s beard. There was the faintest hint of blue where he had bit her. The thought of that bite sent a surge of sensation pouring into her womb, into her sex. She licked her swollen lips and stared at her neck and her knees weakened. She carried his marks down her neck to her breasts. Faintly red, little brands from his touch, his kiss, his nips.

  She hadn’t wanted gentle, she had wanted hard. She had wanted to loosen the dark, furious need she hadn’t even known had been building inside her. She had wanted it free, and he had freed it.

  It was more than obvious she was canceling her date with Duncan tonight. There was no way she could face him like this. No way she could let him see this. And it was even more obvious that she wouldn’t be seeing him again.

  Shaking her head, she dried her hair, dropped the towels to the floor, and tugged on her robe before going back downstairs and making the call to Duncan.

  He wasn’t pleased. It was short notice, and he was irritated with that. Duncan liked to stay on schedule, and she had just messed up his little schedule. When she hung up the phone she sighed wearily at the thought of the frustration in his voice. She would have to break things off soon. Companionship was no reason to keep him hanging on. And companionship wasn’t enough anymore. She had tasted hunger again, and she wanted more.