by Vivi Andrews
“I always want to barge in and solve everyone else’s problems,” she murmured. “I hate that I can’t do anything to help you.”
“You do.”
The words were soft and they called her head back around, her blue eyes locking on his, though it was too dark for him to make out the two-tone blue color. “I do?” Confusion wrinkled her brow.
“I can’t explain it, but things are clearer when I’m near you. You…” He struggled for words. He’d never been particularly poetic and now that his brain was a jigsaw puzzle with pieces missing, it wasn’t any easier to find the right words, so he settled for one that was completely inadequate. “You help.”
For a moment her eyes were wide with a sort of startled awe, then he could actually see her defenses closing her down, replacing that wonder with cynicism. A wry little smile quirked her lips. “Is that why you’re always following me around?”
“Yes,” he said, battling her walls with simplicity.
She swallowed, defenses softening, something real and troubled lighting in her eyes. “I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. I’m not anyone’s savior. I’m not going to heal you with love or anything like that. I don’t want a mate.”
“I’m too broken to ask for that,” he said softly. “But when I’m with you things are…” Again the words, why wouldn’t they work? “Peaceful. I just want some of that peace.”
She wet her lips, the sight tantalizing and distracting. “So you use me for peace and I use you for…um…” A blush stained her cheeks.
Sex. “Whatever you want.” He could have said it for her, but he found it entirely too adorable to see bold, brash Grace stammering for words.
“Right. So we just use one another and everyone’s happy?”
Happy. That was a word he hadn’t thought about in a while. His thoughts fractured, skittering after happy, chasing it, trying to remember what it felt like.
“Dominec?”
He focused on her face, on the tiny frown wrinkle between her brows as she studied him.
“Your eyes were doing that thing again.”
Grace. Happy. “Yes.”
Her frown deepened. “What?”
The words weren’t working. So he dismissed them. Her lips were close.
So he kissed them.
She made a soft, startled sound before her lips parted and she leaned into him, one hand lifting to grasp his shoulder. He surged into her mouth and the complicated, disordered mess of his thoughts fell away until there was only Grace.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Whatever his other faults, Dominec was good at this.
He cupped the side of her neck, long fingers curving around to her nape as his thumb stroked the underside of her jaw. Awareness bled along her skin until she felt him in every pore.
The fact that he needed her—more than just her body, but that something about her could soothe him—was almost an aphrodisiac in itself. Dominec may want to use her for that peace she could give him, but he didn’t ask for anything in return. Simply that she let him be near her. She could do that. With the way he kissed, she was more than willing to do that.
His tongue stroked expertly over hers, a low rumble of satisfaction vibrating from his chest. He pressed her back and she let him guide her down onto her back on the blanket. The roof was cold beneath her, but the chill at her back made Dominec’s heat as he settled himself over her all the more erotically enticing. She arched up into him. He felt like heated stone, all tightly packed muscle covered by a thin layer of skin. There was nothing soft and yielding to him, but she didn’t want soft.
She coiled her arms around his neck, drawing him down into the kiss that stretched on and on, back and forth in a tangle of need. His hand slid up her side, under her jacket, sneaking beneath the hem of her shirt to find bare skin. She shivered, as much from the heat of his touch as the chill air that touched her skin, but Dominec broke away from the kiss, cursing low with a disgruntled growl. He rolled them so he was on the bottom, but the cold air above was no better than the icy roof below. Her legs fell naturally to either side of his and he thrust up—his hardness putting pressure right where she wanted it and she abruptly forgot about the cold.
Until she realized the thrusting was a side effect of Dominec levering his shoulders up so he could twist out of his jacket and flip it around her shoulders like a blanket over them both as she lay over him.
“You’ll freeze,” she whispered in soft protest.
“Worth it,” he grunted, his hand once again wrapping around the nape of her neck to draw her down for another kiss. She let him capture her lips for only a moment before twisting her head to the side.
“Dominec,” she scolded low when he gave up her mouth to trail a line of kisses along her jaw and down the curve of her neck. “You’re no good to me with hypothermia.”
But she had to admit he didn’t feel cold, his touch still burning hot, and the addition of his jacket had made her downright comfortable.
His hands were back beneath her shirt, moving upward, the soft thermal knit gathering on his wrists. She braced her hands on his chest and pushed herself up to stop the distracting kisses, but that only gave his hands more room to maneuver and they closed over her breasts, his thumbs flicking unerringly over the lace-covered nipples that were already standing out and begging for attention.
“This is a bad idea,” she whispered, her argument somewhat undermined when she arched into his touch, her neck going a little wobbly and letting her head fall back.
He sat up, his abs tightening deliciously beneath the clinging fabric of his shirt, and nipped her lower lip with a growl. “Stop talking.”
He sucked the spot he’d bitten, flicking it with his tongue before diving back into her mouth for another sanity-stealing kiss. She found her arms around his neck again, her hips rocking against his of their own accord. His hands retreated from her breasts and she whimpered a complaint. A complaint that bled into a moan when he gripped her ass with both hands and ground her hard against his cock. They were both still almost fully clothed, but she wasn’t sure she’d ever felt anything quite so fucking hot, especially when he growled into her mouth in time with the thrusting of his hips.
She moved against him, mindless and instinctual, her hands itching with the urge to release her claws. She heard another voice, purring in harmony with Dominec’s growls and realized it was her. He kept one hand on her ass, guiding that rocking pressure, as his other worked inside the front of her jeans and beneath the elastic of her panties. Grace whimpered an urgent plea and reached between them to frantically unfasten her own jeans to give him room to maneuver. As soon as the zipper released, his fingers slid down that last inch and found the wet core of her. She released a sharp, desperate keen at the jolt of sensation and attacked the zipper on his fatigues, but he moved before she could get it undone.
He lifted her as if she weighed no more than a feather, the hand down her pants never losing its devastating rhythm. He placed her on her back on the blanket again, fitting himself over her so the hard ridge of his erection pressed against her inner thigh as his fingers worked against her. With his free hand, he opened her coat and shoved up her shirt, bending to press fiery kisses against her abdomen. Growling against her skin, his lips blazed a trail toward her breasts, one hand roughly shoving her shirt and bra out of the way as his other continued to devastate her clit with tight, driving pressure.
Her claws snicked out and she gripped his shoulders, incapable of thought as she clung and writhed her hips, urging him onward, striving for that peak that stayed just out of reach. An icy breeze hit the nipples he’d bared and they furled into nearly painful knots.
“Dominec,” she panted. “Please.”
His hot mouth closed over one chilled nipple with sudden, fierce suction and Grace shrieked, her back arching high, hips grinding helplessly against his hand
as an orgasm ripped through her in hard, shuddering waves, a rough, unforgiving tide of bliss.
“Oh God, oh God,” she panted as she came down. Dominec’s fingers had eased their pressure, but every so often he gave a teasing little flick and she convulsed with another electric aftershock. She whispered his name and he ceased tormenting her nipple with his tongue, stretching up to lie against her, a purr humming through his body as he buried his face in her neck.
She could feel him, ruthlessly hard against her inner thigh, but he made no move to lower his trousers. His fingers retreated from the front of her panties with a final flick that sent her muscles jerking helplessly. She opened her eyes to find him tugging her shirt and bra back into place and fastening her jeans one handed, dark eyes watching her skin disappear.
“But you…” she mumbled, reaching for his zipper.
He angled his hips away from her. “Not tonight.”
“Why not?” She knew she sounded like a spoiled child denied a treat, but she didn’t particularly care. The man had just fingered her to one of the best goddamn orgasms of her life. He deserved the main event. Hell, she deserved the main event. Or if she hadn’t earned it, she was more than willing to do whatever it took to get there.
Her eyes went again to the bulge in his pants and she licked her lips. More than willing.
“Stop,” he growled when he caught the direction of her gaze, though he didn’t move away from her, his body still a warm presence along her side.
“Why?” she asked again. She trailed her claws lightly up his back, with just enough pressure to tease.
He shook his head and lowered his face back to the curve of her neck, drawing in her scent in a long, deliberate inhale.
She was starting to notice the cold as her afterglow wore off, but she didn’t like the idea of leaving him unsatisfied. Her brain was waking up after its brief hiatus and asking a dozen questions, first among them: where did that come from?
“Dominec?” She smoothed a hand over the firm, muscular swell of his shoulder. “Why did you…?”
He lifted his head just enough for his dark, glittering eyes to blaze into hers with something fierce and possessive and—sweet holy hell she nearly came again from that look alone. “I needed to make you come for me.”
He said the words like they were a simple statement of fact and Grace shivered, incapable of looking away from that blaze of dark need. “Okay,” she whispered.
His focus seemed to tighten around her. He rumbled an irritated growl. “You’re cold.”
She would have lied, said it was downright tropical on the roof, but she had a feeling her teeth were about two seconds away from chattering. “African lionesses aren’t exactly equipped for making out on snowy rooftops in the middle of a Canadian winter,” she admitted.
He growled at her again and she got the distinct impression he was annoyed with her for allowing herself to get chilled. Then he was on his feet, the move so smooth and swiftly graceful that her mouth went dry and something hot clenched in her core. He would move with that predator speed in bed.
This had been good—okay, it had been fucking epic—but she knew she wouldn’t be able to wait long before the main event.
“Coming?” he asked, surly and irritable as ever as he thrust his hand down at her. Though she couldn’t exactly blame him. From the stiff way he was moving, the cold wasn’t doing much to take the edge off his hard-on.
Grace let him pull her to her feet and stood by as he gathered up the blanket and his jacket. He walked to the edge of the roof and dropped the bundled fabric onto the snowy pavement below. When she came to stand next to him, he crouched and hooked one hand onto the gutter, giving it a tug to test that it was firm and then swinging his body over the edge and onto the walk below, making it look insultingly easy. Grace followed, pleased that her maneuver was almost as graceful as his—though she wasn’t going to complain when his hands caught her waist, steadying her landing.
He quickly set her away, moving down the stairs to the lower level with sure, silent steps. At the base of the steps, he collected the comforter and jacket, tucking them under his arm and nodding her toward her motel room door.
Grace frowned, surprised he would pick her room when his was farther away from the sensitive ears of the lions, but she pulled out her key to unlock her door anyway. If he wanted to advertise their affair, she could hardly quibble after the way she’d surprise-attack kissed him this morning at the pride.
But when the door to her room opened silently on blessedly oiled hinges, Dominec stopped her from leading the way inside with a hand on her stomach. The blanket was tucked under his other arm and he looked down at her with a piercing intensity. She had no idea what he was trying to say with that look, but then he leaned toward her and she stopped trying to decipher it.
The kiss was an abrupt, overwhelming invasion. Her thighs clenched, her body instantly readying itself for him in a hot, slick rush. She made a soft sound in her throat—plea, demand and well-pleasured moan all tangled into one. With his hand on her stomach, he coaxed her backward into the room until they were clear of the door.
The end of the kiss was so sudden, so unexpected, she was still standing there gaping like a guppy when the door clicked shut.
With him on the other side.
What the…?
She would never understand that man. But as she flopped in boneless lassitude on the bed, she decided she could handle his mystery man routine if it came with orgasms like that. ’Cause damn.
Grace brushed her fingers over lips and breasts still swollen from his attentions. If he left her feeling like this, he could be as enigmatic as he wanted.
Grace roused herself only enough to strip, before falling into the heavenly, dreamless sleep of the sated.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Dominec listened to Grace moving around the room next door, trying to detect some whisper of sound that would tell him whether she was annoyed with him for leaving her without so much as a goodbye. He knew that wasn’t how things were done, but he’d known if he stayed a second longer, even to say farewell, he would never have gotten himself out of that room and he wasn’t ready for that yet.
He’d probably confused her. Leaving himself in a state of rigid pain hadn’t exactly been his game plan from the beginning either. But then he hadn’t had a plan. He didn’t think where she was concerned.
But he’d gotten what he wanted tonight.
His cock might be a fucking flaming brand in his pants, but he was satisfied. The demons that lurked in his soul were quiet.
He hadn’t come, but his satisfaction had been drawn from hers. From the knowledge of what he’d done to her. From knowing he owned her passion like that. She was his now.
It had been too much to ask that he make himself vulnerable in front of her tonight. Even with Grace that was a level of trust that he could not leap to lightly.
But his cock didn’t care about his emotional satisfaction. It demanded its own release.
Dominec checked the chain on the motel room door, then went into the small bathroom, closing and locking that door as well, checking the lock on the window and only then allowing himself to relax. Not all the way, but just enough for his body to take what it needed.
He unzipped his fatigues, hissing with relief when he closed his fist around his length. He wasn’t gentle. A few quick, rough strokes and he was bent over the sink, his free hand braced hard on the edge of the counter as he jerked himself off. He didn’t bother imagining it was Grace’s smooth, soft hand in place of his. All he had to do was remember the way her body had bowed with the force of her own orgasm, the sound of her startled shriek of pleasure, and his vision blanked out as his balls released their load in hot, spurting jets that splashed over the sink and mirror.
“Fuck,” he murmured softly, hunched over the sink, panting hard.
He hadn’t done that in a while. So long, in fact, that he was having trouble remembering when—not that his memory was in such great shape to begin with. But the simple fact was his sex drive hadn’t been the same since his captivity.
He’d still feel arousal—the scent of a female in heat still affected his body as strongly as anyone else’s—but it never went farther than a physiological reaction. He’d written his lack of interest off as a function of growing out of his horny teens and twenties. Male sex drives went down as they aged—he’d heard that chestnut about sexual peaks at eighteen too many times to count. He’d just figured that everyone’s libido went into remission.
He hadn’t wanted to let himself think that his loss of interest was another way the Organization had broken him. They had taken enough from him without laying that at their door as well.
But now with Grace it was back. That need. Hotter and more demanding than ever. Though maybe that was a function of the fact that it had been building up for so long. Whatever the cause, he wanted Grace with an animal ache that getting himself off had done little to ease.
Which was good. Fucking great. He was a man again, the most primal part of him wanted to yell.
But it was also dangerous.
He’d forgotten his surroundings for a moment there on the roof tonight with Grace, completely lost his awareness of the outside world—and he hadn’t even entered her. Hadn’t even taken off his fucking pants.
How much worse would it be when they had sex? How much more vulnerable to attack would he make himself?
It was too dangerous to lose track of the world that way.
He trusted Grace. She was the only person on the planet he could imagine being so vulnerable in front of, but they would be exposed. He had to watch his own back, but also to protect her. Not that she needed his protection—she was a warrior and a leader and it would be sacrilege to try to take that away from her in any way. An unthinkable insult. But he had to be the one guarding her back. It was a need he didn’t question. She was his now. She might refute his claim, but it was there nonetheless. Grace was his to guard and his to pleasure—even if it couldn’t be anything more than that.
