He gestured at his cock, still cluelessly begging for action.
“This.”
She stared at him, mouth hanging open. “You just can’t stop pushing, can you?” she asked, in a wondering tone. “You have to push us all the way off the cliff, no matter what. You just can’t stop.”
“I could make you come again before we hit the rocks,” he offered.
“News flash, Aaro. We’ve hit the rocks already,” she informed him. “We’re splattered all over the place down there.”
“Oh, no,” he assured her. “You have no idea. There is so, so much farther yet that we can fall.”
She clapped her hands over her mouth, and for a second, he was afraid she was going to burst into tears.
It was with huge chagrin that he realized she wasn’t crying.
She was laughing. At him. He stared at her, unsure if this was a worse state of affairs, or better. “Yeah,” he said, through his teeth.
“Yeah, go for it. I know I’m just a big laugh riot.”
“You’re ridiculous, Aaro,” she told him. “And I am still not fooled.”
“You’re superimposing dumb girl fantasies over everything I say. I’m trying to be straight with you. That’s all I’ve got to offer.”
She gave him a cautious nod, her lip trapped between her teeth.
“I will be straight with you,” he went on. “And I’ll try to keep you alive. And I will fuck you properly. If you want me to.
That’s it.”
“Hold on.” Her eyebrow twitched up. “That’s three things.”
His brain wouldn’t process that, being starved of the oxygen-bearing red blood cells which had all defected to his crotch.
“Huh?”
“First you say it’s only one thing you have to offer. All of a sudden, it’s three. Watch out, Aaro. Before you know it, you’re going to start opening doors for me. Flowers, chocolates, champagne . . .”
“You’re doing it again,” he growled. “Stop that shit, Nina.”
“And you’re panicking. Chill, Aaro.”
Her lips were still twitching. So he was an object of amuse-ment to her now. He was that desperate, that pathetic. That transparent.
He should say something vicious, to drive the nails deeper into the coffin. But he couldn’t. Nothing was coming to him. Not while she looked at him with that hot glow in her eyes. His cock throbbed with each heartbeat. They stared at each other, tension tightening. That high-pitched hum of sex about to happen.
Amazing, juicy, improbable sex.
If he didn’t kill it, right now. He could. But God, he did not want to. He opened his mouth. A croak came out. He coughed.
“No promises.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Not even common courtesy?”
“Right,” he said, and the part of him that just could not shut the fuck up kept on blathering. “Here’s a tip, to put you on the right track.”
“This is sure to be fascinating,” she said. “Enlighten me.”
His eyes dropped to her muff. Fuzzy ringlets that hid juicy, pink, folded secrets. “Shut me up,” he told her. “The sooner my mouth has a job to do, the sooner I’ll stop shooting it off.”
“Ah,” she murmured. “You mean, um . . . ?”
“Stop playing coy.” It burst out of him, steam blasting out of a valve. “Get over here and sit on my face.”
“Stop it.” Nina’s voice rang out imperiously. “Don’t say another ugly, vulgar, hurtful word, Aaro. Just shut . . . up. ”
His chest heaved, painfully. “Make me.”
Make me.
The words rang, flung down, like a gauntlet. His tone was pure taunting provocation, but after yesterday, her reality had split. There was the old reality, which had become transparent, and the new one, the real one, shining underneath. She heard things, saw things, knew things she’d never known before. With her new ears, she heard very clearly that his words were not a taunt.
They were a plea.
She’d felt it last night, too, but today the sensation was stronger. He was trapped behind a booby-trapped, land-mined fence, strung with razor wire, desperate and alone. If she had half a brain, she’d leave him there, write him off as more trouble than he was worth. He didn’t expect her to do otherwise. No sane, self-respecting woman would put up with the shit he dished out.
That was the point. He did it on purpose. It was his automatic security system, functioning exactly as programmed.
And she saw right through it.
The feeling was seductive. She felt flooded with energy, bright and hot. She tingled and glowed. Fearless. Inspired. She followed the inner prompting, let the towel drop to the floor, let her spine stretch up to maximum height and then a little more.
Shoulders expanded. Hair, tossed luxuriously back. Boobs, tilted provocatively up.
He opened his mouth. “Don’t start to—”
“Shut up.” The punch of power behind her words startled him.
His chest jerked, with ironic laughter, but he did not speak.
He just swallowed hard, staring hungrily as she came closer.
Every step she took, the glow of power got hotter, stronger.
When she was inches from his body, the buzz of his aura electri-fied her. Her nipples hardened, her hairs rose up, her lungs hitched.
She didn’t touch him, just let the charge build as she looked him over. Reached out, boldly stroking the angles and dips and bulges. Not a pinch of fat on the guy. All lean, taut, sinewy. No soft spots, inside or out. She dragged her fingernails in his chest hair. His nipples were as hard as little rocks. The arrangement of the muscles and tendons in his throat was a marvel of human physiology. She wanted to sink her teeth into his deltoids. And his ass, oh. She’d never been the ribald, ass-ogling type, but there was always a first time. And as for his manly member, ah.
She wanted to make him gasp, sigh. To knock that frozen look off his face. To make him relax. Trust her.
Talk about the impossible dream.
But now, he needed something else, something so hard to grasp, she had to feel her way toward it . . . or she’d blunder right past it.
“You know what I think?” she said, her voice throaty and low.
“I think you’re sorry Bruno’s bodyguard is on his way. I think you’re going to miss me.” She gripped his cock. “I’m sure this fellow will.”
“Nina,” he began, in a tight, warning tone. “I can’t—”
“Shut up.” She put her finger on his lips. “Didn’t you hear me the first two times?”
His lips twitched under her finger. His lips were so soft, so warm. She had to stay on top of this. She channeled all the most regal queens and empresses of history. “I did not give you permission to speak.”
She felt his teeth beneath her finger as his grin flashed.
“You’re getting off on this,” he said softly. “Check you out.”
“Shut up,” she snapped. “You’re breaking the rules.”
“There’s rules now? Since when?”
Since you begged me for them, lout. “Shhhh.” She swatted his chest, and put her hands on his big shoulders—and pushed down.
His eyes widened, startled, but he sank to his knees, fascinated.
She grabbed his hair, pulled his face back, and perched a leg up on the bed, waving her muff inches in front of his delighted face. “This is the part where you make up for every rude, nasty, unnecessary thing that you just said to me. Make me forgive you.”
His eyes lit up. Seized her hips in his big hands, and put his mouth to her without an instant’s hesitation.
It took her about three seconds to realize that she was in big, big trouble. It was so good. Amazingly good. She clutched his head, fingers tangled in his hair, shaking and wobbling on one unsteady leg, the other cocked high on the bed, with that luscious candy-swirl of pleasure undoing her from her core. He licked and delved and probed, and thrust two fingers up to his knuckle, curving them and petting her inside.
She didn’t pretend to understand it. She was improvising, but he was melting her down, and the ache swelled bigger, brighter—
It bloomed, and spread out toward infinity in great, pulsing, black and red and rainbow-spangled waves, and she lost herself with it.
She may have toppled, or flopped on top of him, or fainted dead away. But when she came back to herself, they were kneeling, facing each other, and Aaro held her. Or she’d have been a heap on the carpet.
Her eyes fluttered open. He was smoothing strands of sweaty hair off her face. His eyes swam into focus. His grin carved deep grooves into his lean cheeks, make his eye crinkles fan out. He was so gorgeous, her breath stuck halfway inside and just sat there, like a rock.
“Can I use my mouth again?” he asked.
After an embarrassingly long interval, she found the power of speech again. “Only to kiss me.”
His kiss broke her heart. His demanding hunger, her frantic surrender. No controlling him now, not a chance. He tossed her onto the bed, opened a condom, and rolled it on one handed.
Mounted her, never ceding for a moment in his devouring kiss.
He slid his cockhead against her slick folds and stared into her eyes. Every slow increment of his penetration, she felt a deeper claiming. After all his trash talk, how desperately he tried to distance himself from her.
He couldn’t. Not against this. Neither of them could.
She felt devoured. She loved surrendering to his worshipful skill. She whimpered and gave in to the luscious slide and thud of his big body, forcing her into another wrenching climax. She arched, sobbed. He stifled a shout. They clutched each other.
Aaro finally rolled onto his back, but kept her clamped against him. She ended up on top, thighs twined around his. His half-hard cock still clasped inside her. He wound his fingers into her damp hair, and gently lifted her head. “I didn’t ask, this time,”
he said, frowning.
She gave him a lazy, sated smile. “You sure didn’t. You trashed my dominatrix fantasy, throwing your weight around like that.”
He did not relax. “Is it OK?” he persisted. “You’re OK?”
She folded her arms over his chest and propped her chin on them. “Let’s put aside your annoying habit of fishing for compliments, and address the more burning question.”
He looked spooked. “And that is?”
She toyed with his chest hair. “Did you get your ya-ya’s out?”
she asked. “Have you calmed down? Can we talk rationally?”
His mouth tightened. “You fucked me just to calm me down?”
She jerked up onto her elbows. “Don’t start, Aaro. I’m warning you. Do not even start. Behave. Or else.”
“Or what?” A wary smile twitched the corners of his mouth.
“Or you’ll sit on my face again?”
“Whatever I have to do.” She tried to sound stern.
“As a deterrent, it’s not real effective,” he said. “My mouth waters just thinking about it. You’d have to kick me away and handcuff me to the radiator to make me stop.” His cock swelled inside her with those words. She clenched around him, the small muscles inside fluttering.
“Would you kick me away, Nina?” he murmured. “Cruel goddess.”
She moved over him, gasping. Ready again, so soon? They were so wet and slick from her lube, the slide of his cock inside her was a long, tender, liquid kiss inside of her, pulsing tenderly.
“Do you always wake up in such a bad mood?” she asked.
“Mostly,” he said. “It’s better now. I don’t usually inflict my shitty morning mood on another person. I make a point of being alone.”
“You never have girlfriends stay the night?”
He shook his head.
She pushed herself upright, which only served to emphasize the fact that he was still wedged inside of her. And that, in spite of their charged conversation, he was fully erect. His heartbeat throbbed inside her. Their eyes locked. He grabbed her waist, lifting her up to give himself room for a longer stroke. Slid his shaft halfway out. Let her sink slowly, deliciously back down.
Pulsing, wiggling.
“Do you ever get tired?” she demanded, breathless.
“Not of you.”
She harrumphed. “If you’re trying to distract me, it’s not going to work,” she informed him.
“But that’s what you just did to me,” he pointed out. “It worked, too. And it’s an infinitely repeatable solution. Yum.
Cool.”
“It’s not the same thing,” she said sternly. “I was distracting you from your catastrophically bad attitude. I think we should talk.”
“About my bad attitude? Fuck, no. Let’s not and say we did.”
He circled her clit with his thumb. “This is way better.”
She laughed. “You actually think we can avoid all awkward conversations indefinitely by distracting ourselves with sex?”
“Worth a try, isn’t it? Who knows how long we could spin it out?”
A lifetime? She tried to erase the thought, it being inappropriate and impossible. She pushed his chest. “I’m a little sore,” she whispered.
He drew away instantly, pulling out of her. “Sorry. I overdid it.”
“It’s OK,” she murmured, curling her legs beneath her on the bed. “You look scared,” she blurted.
His gaze slid away. “Shitless,” he admitted, after a moment.
“Why? What’s so scary about me? I’m so goddamn harmless!”
“Harmless?” His voice was heavy with irony. “My ass.” He still avoided her gaze. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he muttered finally.
“Then don’t,” she said.
He rolled over, hiding his face. She tried to coax him back, but he wouldn’t budge. After a few moments of that, she realized he was right.
It wasn’t that simple. It should be, but it wasn’t. She was torturing the guy needlessly, asking for things he just didn’t have to give.
Oh, the hell with it. She draped herself over him, covering him with her body, her hair. Trying to memorize the shape of his big body.
She slid off when he started to fidget. “What now?” she asked.
He rolled onto his side. “What we’ve been doing,” he said. “I try to keep you alive. You try to tolerate me.”
“There’s only so much I can tolerate,” she said.
His face was sullen and guarded. “I know.”
“You know you can’t throw fits like that, right?” she pressed.
“We got through it this time, but it’s not something I can tolerate again.”
He nodded.
“So you’ll be good?” she persisted.
“No promises.”
For God’s sake. Defending his right to be a jerk. She sighed.
For some reason, it seemed important to convince him of this one, small thing. “I’m not asking for promises,” she said, an edge in her voice. “I just want you to try to behave. I won’t be here much longer, so it’s not even that big of a deal. Will you just try to be good?”
It sounded like he was coughing up rocks. “I’ll try.”
That was it. The best she was going to pry out of him. A reluctant promise to try not to be horrible. She was such an idiot. She headed into the bathroom. Barely recognizing the woman in the mirror. Cherry red, puffy lips, eyes dilated, hair big and crazy mussed.
Of course, the guy was gorgeous, and a god in bed. He’d saved her life, and then screwed her brains out all night long. There would have to be something wrong with her if she hadn’t gotten a huge crush on him.
There were plenty of things wrong with her already, of course, but she’
d never thought that wanting impossible things from inappropriate men was high on her list of personality flaws.
Tears pricked her eyes. Absurd, to get all emotional over him, the way he held himself back from her. She set about washing off the latest evidence of her poor judgment, lecturing herself in the toughest possible terms. Whoop-de-fucking-do, Aaro promised to try not to be mean and horrible to her for the next hour. What a prince of a guy.
Give him a freaking medal, why didn’t she.
Chapter 17
Be good. Tough directive. Hard to define. All the different things it could mean. He avoided ambiguity whenever possible. He kept things simple. Binary-code-type simple. Black or white. Dots or dashes. True or false. One or zero.
Never two.
When Nina came out of the bathroom, he grabbed his cell, desperate for something to distract him from the promise he’d just made. He didn’t know if he could follow through on it. Had no evidence to suggest that he could, and a lot that would indicate that he couldn’t. It made him frantic. It was so fucked up. So stupid.
“Who are you calling?” Nina asked.
“Miles,” he said.
Her eyebrows went up. “It’s barely six in the morning there.”
“I pay him enough to call at three A.M.” It began to ring. “And he’s not asleep. Miles never sleeps when he goes into computer world.”
Miles picked up. “Hey,” he said. “Found out stuff. Weird stuff.”
“Why am I not surprised,” Aaro said.
“I did my best to filter out the guy’s voice on the file. I’m sending the scrubbed file to your phone right now.”
“Good,” Aaro said. “And the rest?”
“Could you put that on speakerphone?” Nina’s voice had that 206
whip-snapping bite to it. He kind of liked it. He clicked on the speaker.
“First off, Kasyanov is supposed to be dead,” Miles announced, on the speakerphone. “She died three years ago. A fire at the Morgensen Memorial Research Center, outside Spokane.
A guy named Joseph Kirk was married to her in the eighties. He met her in some think tank. They had a daughter, in 1986. It says here, ‘survived by a daughter, Lara Kirk.’ She attended the San Francisco School of Fine Arts. Up-and-coming sculptor. Galleries were taking notice, collectors snapping up early works. Until she disappeared.”
One Wrong Move Page 21
