by Lora Leigh
And blame Sax for the crime. Son of a bitch. He ran his hand over his shaved head and breathed out roughly.
“I have to make sure she’s okay,” he said roughly, his throat clogging with pain at the thought of what had been done to her. “I have to see her.”
“I knew you would.” James nodded slowly. “When she woke up, and Terrie explained what happened, she was horrified. She called the police herself. But she hasn’t said much since. She knows you’re coming.” 9
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Sax nodded then reached for the doorknob. He turned it slowly, pushing the door open and stepped inside quietly.
Terrie, James’ sister-in-law, came to her feet, her face still damp, her eyes red-rimmed as she stared back at him.
“Come on in,” she whispered, glancing at the sheet-draped bed that Sax could only glimpse the bottom of. “She’s resting. For now.” Sax entered the room, moving slowly as he passed the bed.
“I’ll be outside.” She patted Sax on the arm gently as she passed him.
As the door closed, he turned, swallowing tightly before allowing himself to see the damage done.
God help the bastard, he thought when he saw her face, because he was going to kill him. Her face was horribly bruised, her eyes and lips swollen. Sax prayed that Vince Clayton wouldn’t manage to get out of jail, because if he did, he was a dead man.
Her soft, pale blonde hair framed her face—a face he knew was softly rounded, inquisitive, stubborn.
“Looks bad, huh?” Her voice was raspy, groggy as she opened her eyes, the soft gray barely visible through the swollen lids.
It was all he could do to restrain himself, to hold back. He wanted to pull her into his arms, hold her against his chest and swear he would never let it happen again. That he would protect her, keep her safe. But he was smart enough to know she would never accept it.
“I’ll kill him, Marey.” He pushed his hands in his pockets, his fists clenching as rage ate through him. “I swear I’ll kill the bastard.” Her breathing hitched as she grimaced painfully.
“It was my fault.” Tears clogged her voice then. “I should have known better.” A bitter laugh escaped her throat. “It was stupid of me not to check with you.” 10
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He moved to the side of the bed, his chest tightening with emotion. He couldn’t believe this had happened, couldn’t conceive that anyone would do this to her.
He sat down slowly in the chair beside her, shrugging off his suit jacket and flexing his shoulders as he sighed wearily.
“I’ve considered it a time or two,” he finally admitted with a grimace. “Actually, kidnapping you and tying you to my bed for a week was my favorite fantasy.” A short, groggy little laugh left her throat. “Trojans and their whips and chains,” she said with a little sigh.
He picked up her hand, noticing the flinch as he did so. It wasn’t from pain.
“Don’t.” She pulled back from him, swallowing tightly. “I’m sorry about what happened. I’m just sorry. But I can’t—”
“You came to that motel thinking I would be there,” he said gently, staring down at the soft creamy flesh he gripped in his much darker hand. “I wouldn’t have expected that, or I would have had you years ago. You can’t back out now.”
“I already have.” Despite the drugs and the pain, her voice was firm.
“You might think you have.” He picked up her hand again, his fingers holding it in place as she stared at where they met. “But Marey, I can be relentless. I won’t let you go now, not knowing this.”
Panic flared in her eyes.
“And he will never hurt you again.” He leaned close, staring back at her intently, determination thundering through him. “Do you hear me? The bastard will never touch you again, because to do so, he will have to go through me. You’re mine, and when you get out of here, I intend to claim what belongs to me, Marey. Every sweet beautiful inch of you. Mine.”
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Chapter One
One Month Later
“What are you doing here?” Marey leaned against the doorframe, staring up at Sax as he stood on the stoop, looking too damned sexy, too tempting for so early in the morning. “This habit of yours is getting on my nerves, Sax. This is too early in the morning to be out of the bed.”
In the past four weeks, if he had missed half a dozen mornings showing up for coffee and trying to wheedle breakfast out of her, then it would surprise her. And he was getting bolder. Touching her as she moved around the kitchen, stealing kisses when she couldn’t avoid him, laughing at her irate expressions and teasing her when the morning grumpiness got the best of her.
“You should be used to it by now.” His teeth flashed in a smile that made her pussy weep in loneliness as he stepped into the house, pulling the door from her grip and closing it softly.
He was going to drive her to an asylum before it was over with. The man was like an unstoppable force once he got something in his head, and since her attack, he had appointed himself her personal bodyguard whenever he deemed it necessary.
She sighed wearily. She was exhausted. Sleep was a thing of the past and paranoia whipped through the night like the rattle of ghostly chains.
“Vince call?” he asked as he moved into the kitchen, heading straight for the automatic coffeepot. She had learned to time it for his visits.
She stood still as the question filtered through her morning grogginess, holding her still in shock.
“How did you know he was released?” She frowned in irritation as she followed him. “And since when did you decide to just make yourself at home here?” 12
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He pulled one of the mugs from a hook under the cabinet and poured the coffee with the ease of a man comfortable in his surroundings.
“Stop trying to sidetrack the conversation,” he retorted calmly. “Why didn’t you tell me when you found out he was released? It’s been a week.” She pushed her hands deep into the pockets of her baggy flannel pajama bottoms and hunched her shoulders defensively.
“Because it was none of your business?” she suggested mockingly. “I didn’t make his bail for him and I’m not taking his calls. There’s nothing else I can do until the court date.”
“He’s been calling?” The cup lowered back to the counter as his voice lowered dangerously.
Hell. It was too damned early to deal with this crap.
“A few times,” she answered waspishly. “Let it go, Sax. You’re not my father or my husband.”
His eyes narrowed. The deep chocolate depths of his gaze sent a shiver of sensation through her. So far, he had been gentleness itself as she healed from Vince’s attack. He hadn’t really pushed her for anything other than breakfast, and though his sexuality was always present, he kept it reined in for the most part. She had a feeling, based on that look, it wouldn’t last for long.
“I’m not going to sit idly by while he beats the hell out of you again, either,” he informed her, his voice cold, his expression shuttered as he watched her. “And look at you, you aren’t even sleeping anymore. Do you think I don’t know what those shadows under your eyes mean, Marey? Why are you being so stubborn?” She breathed out roughly as she stalked to the coffeepot herself. No one should have to deal with this without that first cup of coffee.
“Don’t start again, Sax,” she snapped. “I’m not moving in with you. It’s not happening, noway, nohow.”
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Especially not now. She poured her coffee, reining in her own fury at the circumstances. To be honest, she had been giving in, considering the offer he had made after she came out of the hospital, tempted by the hot looks, the promise of passion and heat in his eyes. Vince’s release from jail had canceled even the consideration of such a move. There was no way she would dare to push him that far now. The instability she only glimpsed during their marriage had become terrifying.
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br /> She poured the steaming liquid into her cup, ignoring him as he crossed his arms over his chest, straining the white silk shirt he wore and making him look impossibly strong. It was obvious he hadn’t grown lax in the four years since he had left the Army and joined Delacourte. His body looked just as tight and hard as it had when he came home.
A woman really, really shouldn’t have to face this so early in the morning. This amount of sex appeal, dominance, and pure male presence should be reserved for fantasies alone.
As she turned away, she stiffened as she felt the whisper of a touch over the curve of her rear. Balancing the hot coffee, she shot him an irritated glare.
“That was dirty and low,” she snarled as he grinned back at her unrepentantly.
“Keep your hands to yourself.”
He snorted at that, a male sound of disbelief. “That’s not going to happen, Marey.
And we’re not finished discussing this Vince thing, either. If you won’t move in with me, then I’ll park on your doorstep instead.”
“And I’ll have the sheriff drag you off.” She sat down at the small breakfast table, her cup thunking on the glass top as she flicked him another irate look. “Sit down and drink your coffee, Sax. It’s too early in the morning to argue with you.”
“Add that to the fact that you haven’t slept in weeks.” He frowned back at her.
“Yes, I can see where your patience would be wearing thin. Aren’t you sick of it yet?
Being too damned scared to reach out for what you want?” 14
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“You being what I want, of course,” she suggested sarcastically. “Don’t you get tired of running after women who don’t want you?” Lord forgive her for that lie. It was a whopper.
He laughed at her then. A low, deep chuckle that stroked over her senses and had her clit reminding her voraciously just how much it longed for his touch. It was swollen, sensitive, just as her nipples were, her breasts—hell, every cell in her body was aching for him.
“You’re almost awake enough this morning to pull that lie off.” If his frown was anything to go by, he was less than pleased. “Try getting some sleep tonight and maybe I’ll pay attention tomorrow.”
Maybe pushing Sax at seven-thirty in the morning wasn’t a good idea, she thought a second later as he pulled her from the chair, one powerful arm hooking around her waist as he brought her flush with his very hard, very aroused body.
“Sax…” She meant to protest. Really, she assured herself. She was outraged that he would be so dominant, so sexually determined at the drop of a hat.
Of course she was, her conscience mocked her as her lips opened beneath his, a moan shuddering from her chest as his tongue licked at her lips, possessive and intent on claiming the territory beyond.
She was going to protest this. She was going to tell him just how arrogant and completely, impossibly unfair he was being and all the reasons why this was a really bad idea.
Sure she was, she mocked herself as her hands gripped his shoulders, her lips opening beneath his as she felt his hands moving slowly beneath the loose material of her nightshirt, pressing against her stomach as he played with the strings that tightened the waistband of her pajamas.
He felt so good. So good and warm, and strong. All she wanted to do was immerse herself in it, let the sensations whipping through her body carry her wherever he wanted her to go. Just this, just for a brief time. Then she would make him stop. She 15
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would be strong again and she would reset the boundaries she knew she had to have between her desire and what she knew would protect them both.
For now, she was lost and she damned well knew it. This was why she kept as far away from him as possible. This was the reason she had fought the desire between them. Because of this, the pleasure, the incredible fiery sensations that traveled not just through her body, but through her soul as he lifted her closer, grinding her against him, the hard wedge of his erection pressing firmly into the engorged nubbin of her clit.
“So sweet,” he whispered as his lips nipped at hers then, his teeth tugging at the bottom curve, his tongue licking over it as she fought for his kiss again. She didn’t want to think, didn’t want to let go of the incredible pleasure consuming her.
It was happening too fast, a part of her screamed. If she didn’t stop now, she wouldn’t be able to later.
Shut up! The aching core of her pussy wasn’t having it. It flared with renewed demand, weeping its thick juices as he lifted her closer.
She sought his kiss again, her head tilting, her tongue licking at his lips, a moan shuddering from her chest as he gave her what she sought. Hot, moist, his tongue ravaging, his hands possessive as he lifted her, settling her against the table as he pressed between her thighs. Her bare thighs…
Oh God, she was so lost. How had he removed the pajama bottoms without her even noticing?
“Come here, baby.” He moved back despite her protest, his hands lifting the shirt, pulling it over her head before she could form a protest.
“Sax… Not fair…” she cried out as he bent her backwards, his lips covering the hard tip of her breast as the words echoed around them.
She was going up in flames. She couldn’t survive pleasure like this. It was too much. Too intense.
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Her hands gripped his head, feeling the slick, shaved contours beneath her fingertips as she held him to her, gasping, crying out, fighting for breath as the intensity of his touch swirled through her.
This was what she had gone to that damned motel for. Because she couldn’t resist the allure, the fire, the cascade of pleasure that infused every particle of her being.
“No, it’s not fair,” he growled, his lips raking over the incredibly sensitive tip of her breast. “I’m at your breasts when I’m dying to eat your pussy.” Shock held her motionless as he jerked a chair from under that table and pulled it to him. Sitting down, he spread her thighs, his eyes on hers as his head lowered.
“Breakfast,” he whispered. “I always did prefer sweets first thing in the morning.” His tongue swiped through the ultra-sensitive slit of her pussy. When his tongue reached her clit, he circled with a hum of approval, licking around it, causing her to arch closer, a strangled scream of pleasure tearing from her throat.
She wasn’t allowing this, she assured herself. She wouldn’t allow it. It was dangerous. Not just for her peace of mind and her own heart, but for him as well.
But she was, and she was glorying in it, she realized distantly. Her thighs were spread for him, her hands gripping his head, holding him to her as he devoured her with lustful greed.
His hands were just as busy as his lips, and he was proving the rumor that he was definitely an ass man where a woman was concerned. His fingers were caressing from her pussy to the small entrance of her anus. And though Marey had been certain that particular fetish wouldn’t infect her as it had her friends, as his fingers massaged, caressed, pressed, she found her curiosity and arousal heightening.
His mouth kept her pussy from missing the touch of his fingers, allowing his fingers to spread the slick cream that wept from her vagina back to the small entrance to lubricate and prepare it for the gentle impalement of his finger.
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“Sax…” She was panting with the pleasure, unable to focus, no longer able to think.
She could only cry out his name, lifting for him, poised on an edge of sensation she was certain would destroy her.
“There, baby,” he crooned against her pussy, his voice vibrating against her clit.
“Just enjoy. Let me show you good it can feel.” Another finger joined the first. She wasn’t certain if her strangled cry was one of protest or encouragement, but she knew the slow, even thrusts of his fingers inside her—first one, then two—were pushing her past any boundaries she could have conceived.
&nbs
p; He moved, shifted as his tongue dipped into the opening of her vagina, tracing the entrance, flickering over the sensitive tissue as he licked at the juices easing past it. She was so wet, so hot, it should have been humiliating.
Her eyes widened in shock as she felt his finger move back, felt the tip of another joining it. Cool, slick gel eased his fingers inside her, assuring her he was more than prepared for whatever his desires were that morning. Desires that were quickly becoming her own.
He prepared her slowly, easily, keeping her poised on pleasure so intense she was certain flames were going to begin rolling over her. Perspiration dampened her skin, fingers of heat ran over her repeatedly as the band of intensity tightened in her womb and the stretching fire increased in her rear. Fire that burned with a pleasure so mind-consuming there wasn’t a chance of denying it. So soul-destroying that when he rose to his feet, releasing the straining length of his cock and pushing the waistband of his slacks around his thighs, she never thought to protest, never thought to consider that she was crossing a line she might never be able to return from.
“This is what you’re denying yourself, Marey. Only a part of what you’re denying us both.”
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He pressed the head of his cock against the stretched opening of her anus, lifting her to him, his hands spreading the cheeks of her buttocks apart as she felt the thick crest begin to penetrate the little opening.
Pleasure and pain collided as his gaze caught and held hers. She felt him enter her slowly, unbearably slowly, stretching her impossibly, sending her senses screaming with the conflicting sensations.
She had never believed that line between pleasure and pain would tempt her, would draw her to the extent that nothing mattered except pushing that boundary further.
“Breathe, baby,” he whispered. “Deep breaths. Close your eyes and press out for me. Let your body milk me in, don’t force it.” Her head thrashed on the table.
