Shades of Passion

by DePaul, Virna

  “Maybe. But you seem to be saying that all mentally ill people should be given a pass. Even if they do something awful, like kill a cat. Or a human being.”

  “That’s not what I said,” she snapped out. “And not what I meant. Despite everything, sometimes you can’t fight where you come from. Who you’re born to be. People can do their best to help you, but it’s not always enough.”

  “So you admit some people are unredeemable, then?”

  Nina grabbed the wine bottle and took a long drink. “Sociopaths. Psychopaths. Their brains aren’t misfiring—they’re people who were born or made broken. No medication can fix them.” She handed him back the bottle and her face grew sad. “Contrary to what you might think, I don’t believe in miracles for everyone. Some things, including the way a person thinks, can’t always be changed. That’s the saddest thing of all.”

  It was apparent from the way she looked at him and her tone that she was talking about him. From the look on his face, he got the message loud and clear.

  * * *

  THEY DIDN’T TALK FOR nearly an hour.

  They just sat, staring at the ocean and occasionally drinking wine.

  Eventually, he turned to her and said, “I’m sorry. I was hoping coming here would make you feel better. Instead, you’re angry with me.” Still, having her be angry with him was infinitely preferable to her being upset or blaming herself for something she’d had absolutely no control of.

  “It’s not your fault,” she said. “You’re a straight shooter, remember? We’ll just never see eye to eye on this issue, will we?”

  “I don’t think so.” And that was something he truly regretted. He liked Nina and respected her—far more than he’d ever thought possible—and he didn’t want her to think otherwise. Not anymore. Even more than that, he was attracted to her. If he’d met her under any other circumstances, he’d bed her and even date her until their time together petered out on its own. Unfortunately, it was obvious they strongly disagreed about core things with respect to human behavior, and what could be excused away and what couldn’t. It was also obvious that those disagreements would make any type of long-term, intimate relationship between them difficult, if not impossible.

  That wasn’t just presupposition on his part—he’d loved Lana, but that love hadn’t been enough to keep them together, in large part because they’d disagreed about the same types of issues that he and Nina did. What made him think a relationship with her would work out any better?

  Nothing.

  She smiled sadly and nodded. Trailed her fingers in the sand next to her. “I guess we’re done here then.”

  His jaw clenched. “I guess so.” Rising, he started to pack up their things.

  “Unless...” Nina whispered.

  Simon froze. “What?”

  “Unless, despite our inability to see eye to eye on this one issue, you’d be interested in having sex with me?”

  Did his breath whoosh out of him as loudly as it sounded to his own ears? Was he staring at her as googly-eyed as he felt he was? Maybe, because she closed her eyes, almost as if she needed to block him out of her sight in order to keep her courage up.

  “I know,” she said with a shaky laugh. “You probably can’t believe I’m propositioning you. Not now. Neither can I. But the thing is...I don’t want to go back yet. I know we were just fighting. That you still don’t respect what I do. Not really. But it doesn’t matter. I still want you.”

  “No,” he said quietly. “What you want is to forget.”

  Her eyes flew open and she nodded. “Is that so wrong? What you said earlier, about seducing me to distract me? It sounded good. It still does.”

  Hell yes, it sounded good. And no, it wasn’t wrong for her to want it. There were, however, several reasons he should pretend this topic of conversation had never been broached. Several reasons he should bundle her into the car and drive like crazy to get her back home and away from him.

  First, he’d just got done telling himself that a relationship between them wouldn’t work because of the issues between them. That meant any sex they had—now or otherwise—would be a temporary affair.

  Second, she had undergone significant stress and trauma in the past few days. She’d just admitted she was looking to forget her troubles by being intimate with him; if not for that, he couldn’t see her agreeing to a fling. She’d told him so from the very beginning—that she wanted to keep things professional between them. If he had sex with her now, he’d be taking advantage of her vulnerability, and he liked her too much to do that.

  Third, his mind needed to stay focused on the case and he didn’t want to mislead her about—

  “Simon,” she said quietly. “I’m well aware of what the circumstances are here and what I’m asking for. This isn’t a matter of you taking advantage of me, but whether you’re willing to give me what I want. What I’m asking for. If you’re going to say no, then say no. But please don’t say no for any other reason than you don’t want to have sex with me.”

  He clenched his teeth so hard his jaw hurt. “Damn it, you know it’s not about that. I look at you and I want you. I look at you and all I can think about is getting naked and feasting on you, whether we’re at SIG, in my car, in your house or on the beach, right here and now.”

  She scrambled to her feet. Took a step toward him. Froze when he automatically took a step back.

  “Then do it,” she said. “Do me. Right here and right now.”

  “Nina, think. This isn’t what you want. Not really.”

  “You’re wrong. It’s what I want. I’ll prove it to you.” She started unbuttoning her blouse, her fingers shaking but determined.

  Desire had him hardening and his fingers itching to brush hers away because she wasn’t moving fast enough. It made him desperate to get a glimpse of more of the creamy skin that she was slowly revealing. To touch it. Lick it. Taste it.

  Frantically, he ripped his gaze away from her. He looked around them. They were alone. No one else was here. But he wasn’t going to have sex with her for the first—and probably last—time on a beach.

  Wait, what the hell was he thinking? He wasn’t going to have sex with her at all.

  Was he?

  * * *

  EVEN AS NINA CONTINUED to unbutton her blouse, even as she stepped so close to Simon that their bodies brushed, she knew she was being exactly what she’d sworn never to be.

  Needy.

  She couldn’t help herself.

  Even with the cool ocean breeze tickling her skin, warmth smothered her. She’d shared her beliefs with Simon to give him some insight into her, but the conversation had turned too serious, proving exactly how unsuited for each other they were no matter how much she’d fantasized otherwise.

  It didn’t matter.

  She wanted the distraction he’d hinted at—no, she needed the distraction. Knowing her cat had been purposefully killed and cut had been bad enough. Believing that two homeless men had been killed, the second held down and initials cut into his back, because of her? It was too much to bear. As soon as they left this beach and drove home, she’d have to deal with it, but she wasn’t ready for that. Not yet.

  Not now.

  Not with Simon’s warm body a fraction of an inch away from hers. Not when the ocean breeze carried his heady scent into her nostrils.

  Now she wanted to forget everything. Everything but him.

  “Simon?” she murmured. Her hand fell away from her body. She’d undone the last button, but didn’t have the nerve to strip her blouse off completely. She stared at his neck, where his own button-down shirt lay open, exposing the beating pulse there.

  He raised a hand and brushed his knuckles across her cheek. “What is it, Nina?”

  “What do you say? Will you distract me some more?”

  He stared her. Withdrew his hand, then one by one, closed the buttons on her blouse. When he was done, he said, “Let’s go.”

  Defeat and disappointment crashed through
her, and she blushed with embarrassment.

  Until he said, “We’re going to a hotel.”

  Then her blush became all about relief. Anticipation.

  And lust.

  Beautiful, wonderful, life-affirming, utterly distracting lust.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  ONCE SIMON DECIDED TO grant Nina the distraction she wanted, he approached the task with the same confidence and single-mindedness he applied to everything else he did in life. She couldn’t help but imagine him putting all that focus to mind-boggling good use on her body.

  It took them less than twenty minutes to find a nice hotel and register for a room. As Simon locked the door and drew the curtains closed, blanketing the room in shadows, Nina quivered. Inside and out.

  Distraction. Comfort. Passion. She didn’t care what word most accurately defined what was about to happen. She just knew she needed Simon.

  Simon moved closer until they stood face-to-face next to the bed, their breathing loud in the quiet room. Mindful that she’d asked for this, that she needed to remind him he wasn’t taking advantage of her, she placed a hand on his chest and slowly ran her fingers down, brushing a fingernail over his now hardened nipple.

  Thankfully, her touch appeared to prod him into action. He stepped closer until she had to tip her head back to keep their gazes locked. Raising his hands, he cupped her face, his thumbs gently smoothing against the edges of her jaw, stretching out the sexual tension until it was almost unbearable and she couldn’t stifle the whimper that escaped her. His eyes darkened and a flush rode high on his cheekbones just before he lowered his head and kissed her. Softly. Just the barest pressure, which had her frowning and moving closer. Pressing harder. He smiled, but that smile quickly disappeared when she flicked her tongue out, savoring his taste.

  She needed him.

  He sucked in a breath and pulled her even closer, his mouth slanting against hers. His tongue curled around hers, urging her to play again, and she eagerly complied. She hummed with pleasure, the sound turning into a disappointed gasp when he pulled away far too soon.

  “Shh,” he whispered and began kissing her neck, making his way downward even as he undid the buttons of her blouse. He stopped with his face resting lightly against her cleavage, and she looked down and tangled her hands in his hair. His eyes shut, he butted his cheek against her as if he was a cat—savoring the softness of her skin against his.

  Nina gasped, and then arched her head back, exposing her throat to him. Sexual arousal charged through her like an electrical current. “Make love to me. Please.”

  A low moan ripped from somewhere deep inside him. Kissed her throat. Bit it. Sucked.

  “You smell good,” he murmured. “You feel heavenly. Your skin tastes so sweet. Do you taste just as sweet everywhere else?”

  A warm rush of sensation sizzled straight to her core. “Why don’t you find out for yourself?” she dared him.

  His grin was pure masculine wickedness. With a quick efficient twist of his fingers, he undid her bra and pushed the cups away.

  She hissed when he covered one nipple with his big palm and the other with his mouth. He sucked softly at first, then more deeply. She felt the tug between her thighs and whimpered. She ached. Felt empty. Longed to be filled but only by him. “Please. More,” she said.

  “How much more?” he said as he lifted his head.

  “Everything you have. Everything you’re willing to give me.”

  “Everything?”

  She nodded. Then qualified, “For now. We can have this for now.”

  It was the same thing she’d said before their first kiss and she could tell he didn’t like it. But she was trying to hold on to some semblance of reality. She wanted him, but she couldn’t lose herself completely. She couldn’t forget who she was and what she believed and how both those things would always conflict with who he was and what he believed.

  She waited for him to protest. Or to agree. He did neither. Instead, he finished undressing her, undressed himself, swept her up in his arms and lowered her to the bed.

  * * *

  AS SIMON LAID NINA OUT on the bed, he told himself to be calm. Not to panic.

  She was still talking about now. Still insisting that what they were about to do, with each other and to each other, wouldn’t last. Everything inside him screamed in protest and he wanted her to know it, but he had no right. And nothing he could say to try to change her mind would make sense anyway.

  He just knew she was important to him. That as much as he’d run from caring about her, he couldn’t run anymore. Not from this.

  She was in his arms. For now. And he would take it.

  He would take her.

  Even if he couldn’t keep her.

  With that thought in mind, he framed her face in his big hands and kissed her with everything he was feeling—tenderness, affection, lust and yes...a hint of desperation. He wanted to kiss her for hours, but, mindful that their time was limited, he also didn’t want to miss out on touching the rest of her body.

  Her breasts especially, he thought, remembering how sweet and right her nipple had felt in his mouth. Groaning, he pulled back and, pressing both of her breasts together, buried his face in her cleavage. Turning his head one way and then the other, he took turns sucking her nipples and simultaneously gave his hands the freedom to roam over her. From her silky-soft hair to her smooth rounded shoulders. Down her arms to her elegant fingers. Over her plush hips and then...God, yes...he clasped her thighs and pulled them up on either side of his hips, opening her so that her core pressed solidly against his upper abdomen, searing him with her heat. Between his own thighs, his erection throbbed with urgency and although he pressed it into the bedding, he found little relief.

  He wanted her. To be inside her body. Encased by her wet, clinging heat.

  Lowering his hand, he cupped her between her thighs and carefully inserted one finger into her. She was as wet and tight as he’d imagined.

  She gasped and arched, her head thrashing back and forth wildly, prompting him to add another finger to the mix. This time she didn’t make a sound, but she grabbed his shoulders, her nails delivering a stinging pain that more than communicated her pleasure and ratcheted up his.

  God, she was amazing. So responsive. So giving of herself.

  In bed, their differences were only good ones. Two parts that looked and felt nothing alike, but fit together to create something complete and unique and good. In bed, the rest of the world disappeared, and there was no guilt, no fears for the future, just this heart-pounding pleasure that coursed through every part of his body. Invigorating and strengthening him.

  After kissing each breast one last time, he slid farther down her body, stopping at her rounded belly and teasing her naval with several licks and bites, each making her squeal with delight. But when he kissed that place between her thighs, she seemed to go mute. With a silent exhalation, she surrendered to his touch, her body melting like butter into the bedding and her thighs falling to the sides.

  He could feel her wetness against his face, smell the sweet musk of her womanhood, and he relished the knowledge that she wanted him. A quick glance up her body confirmed that her eyes were closed tight and that her fingers now gripped the bedsheets with every lick and thrust of his tongue. She pumped her hips against him, too, silently demanding he give her more. More of his fingers. More of his tongue. More of the blessed forgetfulness that drowned out everything but the heat and spark and push and pull of lovemaking.

  He was so damn hard, hurting so bad that he couldn’t stand it anymore. Pushing himself up, he crawled up her body and begged, “Touch me. Please.”

  Her eyes popped open and she stared at him, dazed, almost blind, before she smiled and licked her lips. When cool, slim fingers wrapped around him and began a tight-fisted stroking, his head fell back and he groaned as if overcome with pain. And in truth it was a kind of pain, one that ratcheted up his need so fast he felt dizzy. One that would only be soothed
once he became part of her.

  At the same time, her touch felt better than anything he’d ever experienced. His toes curled and his heart pumped hard. Blindly, he sought out her lips again and pumped his tongue into the slick cavern of her mouth just like he’d pumped it into the slick cavern between her thighs. He wondered if she could taste herself and if she liked it. He wondered if she’d want to taste him.

  “Oh, God,” he moaned as she pulled his cock between her legs and began grinding the head against her in slow, dragging circles. It felt like he was being dipped in warm honey, and that only added to the fantasy of her licking and lapping at him, then sucking him dry.

  “Enough,” he gasped out.

  “No. Not enough,” she said softly. “Not by a long shot.”

  He shook his head as he tried to make her understand. “I need to be inside you. I need a condom,” he gasped.

  Her hand froze, and for a second he pressed against her, poised at her very opening, wanting so badly to thrust inside. With sheer will, he moved to the side, trying not to cry out when her hand slid away from him. Quickly, he retrieved a condom from his wallet, slid it on then covered her body again with his.

  He cupped her face and stared into her eyes. “Now?” he said, his words less a question than a plea.

  She nodded. “Now.”

  “You do it,” he said.

  When she looked confused, he clarified, “Put me inside you. Guide me. Show me where you want me, Nina.”

  Her eyes dilated and she reached down, gripped him and again guided him between her thighs. Once there, she teased him once more, this time using slow up and down strokes to drive him crazy rather than the circular motions she’d used before. He couldn’t help it; every time she stroked him against her, he pushed his hips forward just a bit, until finally, finally, the tip of him slipped inside her.

  They both jerked and gasped.

  Dropping his forehead against hers, he murmured, “You’re so hot. So wet and so damn tight.”

  “The more you put inside me, the tighter I’ll be. And the wetter and hotter I’ll get. So please...” Along with her pleading tone, she cupped his ass and pulled him closer, her thighs sawing restlessly on either side of his hips.