Zero Hour

by Megan Erickson

  She tried to smile, but it was hard with the tears building in her eyes at his naked confession. “Why didn’t you say all these things years ago?”

  “I never thought I was right for you. I thought you’d marry some doctor who’d look at you like you were precious, and I’d run a background check on him and make sure he never did you wrong. That was how I saw our lives.”

  That was a nice thought, but it had never been her dream. “How come you never asked me what I wanted?” Wren picked up his hand off her stomach and kissed the back of it.

  Roarke’s hazel eyes watched her movements before lifting to meet her gaze. “Because if you said you wanted me, I’d never let you go.”

  “I want you,” she whispered, opening her lips to turn the kiss on his hand a little more erotic.

  “Wren,” he said on a groan.

  “No, you got to control everything for over ten years. Now it’s my turn. What about what I want? Will you give it to me?”

  His breath was shallow. “You know I will.”

  She tilted her chin and repeated, “I want you.”

  His fingers, the ones that said OVER, slipped into her hair, cupping the back of her scalp as his thumb rubbed across her cheek. “Little bird, you have to understand, I’m fucked up. You tell me you want me, then that’s it for me. I don’t want anyone else. I never have. It’s always been you. So if you say that you’re going to give me you, then you’re stuck with me. I’m embedding myself like a motherfucker.”

  She turned her head to the side to press a kiss to the heel of his palm. “Good, make it permanent.”

  With a grip on his wrist, she ran his fingers between her breasts, then over her stomach. She locked eyes with him and slid his hand into her underwear. He let his head drop to her temple on a muttered curse. She withdrew her hand, wanting him to take over, and he did, his fingers continuing down until they dipped into her wetness.

  “Oh fuck,” he said against the side of her face as his fingers swirled around her opening. “You are so wet, Wren.”

  “You’ve been grinding your dick against me,” she mumbled, already starting to lose coherent thought as he worked delicious torture on her. “Of course I am.”

  With a yank, he tore her underwear down her legs. She sucked in a breath as he slid down and positioned himself between her thighs. He met her gaze and blew gently on her heated, wet flesh. She cried out and wiggled, but he clamped his hands on her thighs and kept her right where she was. In front of him.

  He moved a hand to tease her folds, running a finger over her clit and blowing on it again. She was bare, exposed, more than she’d ever felt in her life, and Roarke was staring her down like he planned to devour her. She was pretty sure that was his plan.

  She squirmed again, wanting his mouth on her, but he was in no rush, his focus on what his fingers were doing. “I knew you’d have a pretty pussy, Wren,” he said with reverence. “I used to try to imagine how you’d feel, and smell, and taste, and this is so much better than I fucking imagined, especially now that I know what you feel like on my cock.”

  Her chest heaved. “You didn’t taste me yet though.”

  His finger left her, and she watched with fascination as he slipped his finger in his mouth, closing his full lips around it. When he pulled it out, he grinned at her, all teeth. “Fucking delicious.”

  Then he lowered his mouth and sucked her clit.

  Pleasure swamped her as he ran the flat of his tongue against her, and her mouth opened on a scream. She flailed a hand behind her, bracing herself on the headboard while the other hand gripped his hair. She bit her lip, trying to hold back more screams, and squinted her eyes shut.

  He pulled back and blew on her again. She made a growling sound in her throat.

  “Wren.”

  “Mmm-hmmm,” she said.

  “Open your eyes.”

  She did and blinked at him with heavy eyelids. His grin was cocky as hell. “You don’t have to be quiet, and you don’t have to lay still. Scream, fuck my face, I don’t care.”

  “My God, Roarke,” she gasped.

  Then he was back at it, not letting up this time as his hands kept her thighs apart while he did delicious things to her with his tongue. Actually not just his tongue. This was full service. He used lips, teeth, nose, and chin. He must have been coated in her, which only turned her on more.

  She’d never been able to come from oral sex—she’d always felt too exposed, too vulnerable, and a little empty. But when Roarke lapped at her clit with the tip of his tongue and slid two fingers inside, crooking them at just the right spot, she saw stars.

  The orgasm hit her like a bullet, speeding down her spine to explode in her belly. Aftershocks rocketed through her body into every limb, and she was cursing, wailing, and shouting Roarke’s name so loud that the neighbors surely heard.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  He wanted to record Wren saying his name in her pleasure-soaked voice and play it on a loop. He wanted to live, breathe, and die listening to the rasp of syllables on her tongue while he made a home between her thighs.

  Her legs were trembling, her chest heaving. One strap of her tank top had slipped down her shoulder during all her writhing, exposing a breast topped with a dark nipple. He suddenly needed his mouth on it, so he slid up her body and attached his lips to the hard peak. She made a squeaking sound, and her fingers slipped into his hair again.

  “Roarke.” There was his name again, dripping from her lips, tinged with awe. He didn’t want anyone else to say his name ever again. Only her.

  He wasn’t done with her breast yet. He cupped it, thumbing the nipple as she squirmed, and he placed a chaste kiss on it. He tugged her other strap down, revealing both breasts. Fuck, she was perfect. All that tawny skin laid out on lavender sheets. All for him.

  He was hard as a rock but wasn’t in a hurry. Wren was obviously sated, her movements a little lazy as she ran her nails down the back of his neck and the tops of his shoulders. He made figure eights with his tongue around her nipples, he nipped at the sensitive flesh, and he gave Wren time to recover. She would come again, this time when he was inside her.

  He kissed the inside of her elbow, her belly button, and the soft skin of her hip while she watched him with half-lidded eyes. He was moving back up to spend more time with her fantastic tits when she planted a foot on the bed and rolled them over so he was on his back and she was looming over him.

  She made quick work of his pants and boxers and the rest of her clothes, throwing them on the floor. His dick twitched as her hair brushed his balls and sensitive shaft. She kissed the head of his cock, her mouth tipping up at the corners, before she crawled up his body to straddle him.

  Now that she had come, she was slick as hell. She sat so her pussy rested on the underside of his dick. She rolled her hips, and he sucked in a breath, clamping his hands down on her thighs. “Fuck, Wren.”

  She raised her arms over her head, arching her back as she continued to torture him. The head of his cock nudged her clit over and over, and her wetness coated his shaft, his groin. He was drowning in the smell and feel of her. He was unable to stop himself from thrusting up into her, seeking her heat.

  But she was content to tease him, grinning down at him with a smirk. Through gritted teeth, he said, “I’m going to come like this if you don’t stop. And you don’t want that, do you? You want me to fill you up.”

  She moaned long and low, falling forward so she braced herself with her hands on his chest. The obscene sounds of her wet flesh working over his shaft filled the room. He was going to lose it right there, all over his stomach, before getting inside of her.

  “Tell me,” she said, biting her lip as she slowed her hips. “Tell me how badly you want inside me, Roarke.”

  Yep, she was trying to make him lose his mind. “Can’t get you out of my head. I dreamed of seeing you beneath me, dreamed of you saying my name when I came, but the reality is so much better.” His hips were moving again even th
ough he tried to lie still; his cock was a heat-seeking missile and her pussy was the target.

  She lifted onto her knees and held his cock so only the very end touched her entrance. “Don’t forget, don’t ever forget, that you don’t get this behind a computer screen, understand?”

  His voice was failing him, so he nodded as he lost himself in her dark eyes. He clenched his jaw and held his hips still. He loved this fucking torture, lived for it. Wren could edge him all night, and he’d fucking worship her.

  She lowered herself, taking just his tip inside, and paused. He threw his head back, his self-control hanging by a thread. He was panting like a madman, his chest heaving, and he was sure his veins were standing out on his neck as he sought to stay still.

  She swirled her hips, and his eyes rolled back in his head. “Wren…”

  “You could have had this for the last ten years.”

  How did she sound so in control? He blinked at her through unfocused eyes. She was so goddamn beautiful, and his hands slid up her thighs to clutch her waist. He’d give her anything right now, whatever she wanted. He’d been so fucking stupid for so goddamn long. “I’m sorry.”

  Her hips swirled again. “You were wrong.”

  “I was wrong,” he choked out.

  “But now you have me. And I have you.” She tilted her head to the side and lowered another inch. Her thighs shook slightly at the effort to hold herself in place. “So anytime you feel your humanity slipping and you think it’s okay to retreat behind a screen, you remember this, okay? You remember what it feels like to be connected to me.”

  With a sharp inhale, she sank down all the way onto his cock.

  Her tight heat sent flames roaring through the rest of his body. He felt her everywhere, from his eyeballs down to his toes. She began to ride him, and it took a couple of seconds for his brain to come online. Then he joined her, and the rhythm of their bodies slapping together filled the room. Her tits bounced with each thrust of his hips, and she was crying out, bracing herself on his chest, eyes closed. He lowered a thumb to her clit and found the hard peak. She moaned his name and dropped her head forward. The ends of her hair brushed his chest, raising goose bumps all over his sensitive skin.

  He was already feeling the orgasm barreling down on him, his will power to make this last failing him after all the teasing.

  “Wren…,” he gasped out. “I’m going to come.” She lifted her head, eyes unfocused, and her mouth dropped open as she came.

  Her inner walls clamped around him, and that was the last sensation he needed to tip him over the edge. He shot inside her, and she continued to ride him, milking his cock. He tugged her face to his, and he slid his tongue into her mouth as the last of his orgasm rippled down his spine.

  She went limp on his chest, and he clutched her to him as they both sought to catch their breath.

  He blinked at the ceiling, watching the ceiling fan spin, letting the air cool his heated skin while Wren’s hair tickled his neck. There was really no going back from this. He’d been fine observing her from afar, but that was because he hadn’t known how explosive they were together. Now he knew. And there was no way he could let her go now.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I’m sorry I avoided this for so long. I thought protecting you from afar was what I needed to keep myself sane. Now I know it was only keeping me from knowing what it was like to finally let myself go all in.”

  She shifted to the side so that he slipped from her body, and she lifted a sheet halfway up their torsos. Her lips were red and swollen, her eyes bright, and the best part was that she looked so fucking happy. Her smile hit him right in the chest, so much so that he had to reach out and brush her lips with his fingers. Yep, that smile was real and directed at him.

  She kissed his fingers, her nose scrunched adorably. He drew them away and laid his hand behind his head. Her nails traced the tattoos on his chest. “You had to know I had a crush on you before I left for college, right?”

  Yeah, he did. And he’d ignored it. “I remember the way you looked at me, yeah. It’s one of the reasons I got the hell out of town as soon as Flynn graduated. I thought you were too young…” Her eyes narrowed. “What? I’m being honest. I thought you were too young to really know if you wanted to tangle with me. You had stars in your eyes because I was older than you.”

  “And hot.”

  “Whatever. I wanted you to go to college happy, not trying to be with me, or broken-hearted when it didn’t work.”

  Her nails dug in a bit, and he winced. “How do you know it wouldn’t have worked?”

  He blew out a breath. “Because I didn’t know a damn thing. I still don’t, but back then I was especially clueless. I had sex for the first time when I was fifteen and drunk. I’d never taken a girl out on a date. I wasn’t comfortable with the way you looked at me. I didn’t deserve it. I still don’t feel like I do, but I’m too old to run. And I’m too stubborn to give up.”

  “Well”—her voice softened—“I’m too old to think I don’t deserve you. I do, damn it. I deserve you, and you deserve me. And if we have to flee the country after this, we do it together.”

  He rolled to his side and slipped his fingers into her hair. Her eyes fell shut, and her breath hitched as he leaned in and rubbed their noses together. Her breath panted across his cheek. “Roarke.”

  “I love the way you say my name,” he said, running his lips over her jaw, darting his tongue out to get a taste of her skin. “You make it sound like two syllables, and you draw out the first part, and click the k with the back of your tongue.”

  “I can do other things with my tongue,” she purred.

  He laughed. “And I look forward to that.”

  “Let me feed you,” she said. “Did you eat breakfast?”

  That would be a no. “Not really.”

  She smiled and slipped out of bed. After grabbing a fresh pair of underwear out of her drawer, she tugged them on, along with sweats, a bra, and an old T-shirt. “I make amazing omelets.” Her hair, which had long ago slipped out of its tie, was still stuck in the back of her shirt, and standing there fresh-faced in a big T-shirt, she looked so young.

  “You want help?” He sat up and looked around the room for his clothes.

  “Nah,” she said, grabbing a hair tie and pulling her hair up again. “Just get dressed and meet me in the kitchen.”

  She turned to walk away, but he wasn’t ready to let her go yet. This moment hadn’t lasted nearly long enough, and although he told himself they’d have many more, he wanted one last kiss. He reached out and grabbed her wrist. She halted and raised her eyebrows at him. He puckered his lips, eyes wide in the international give-me-a-kiss expression.

  She laughed and wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing their lips together. He didn’t try for anything more because her lips on his, her hair surrounding them, her body against his, was enough. Could this be it? Could he always have this? He imagined them traveling, sneaking kisses on a plane, renting a condo on the beach. He didn’t think about all the security measures they’d have to take in the future. He’d have her, and that was all that mattered.

  Finally, she pulled back, and her flushed cheeks let him know she enjoyed that as much as he did. “How was that?”

  “Nothing wrong with it.” He grinned, recalling their conversation in the off-track betting parking lot.

  She rolled her eyes, stuck out her tongue, and bounded out of the bathroom on bare feet. He stared after her for a while, listening to her clanging pans around and opening the fridge. The guilt over her involvement had been weighing on him this whole time, and he had to let it go. It had been her decision, and although he felt responsible for her, she was a grown woman. She had her own revenge plan, and he was damn well going to help her with her mission as well. Kill two worthless, criminal Saltners with one key stroke.

  He hauled himself out of bed, stretching his sore muscles. He liked the pain because it reminded him of how she’d ch
allenged him to maintain self-control. Payback might be in order sometime. How long could he tease her? He pulled on his jeans with a grin as he thought of running a cube of ice down…

  His phone rang, cutting off his fantasy. He spotted Marisol’s name on the screen and answered the call. “Yo.”

  “Brennan, we got a problem.”

  He hesitated at the urgency in her voice. “How big of a problem?”

  “Uh…” Her voice trailed off, as if she’d taken the phone away from her mouth, before it returned stronger. “Big. Potentially huge. Saltner’s guys found me.”

  “What?” Roarke said. Wren’s voice filtered down the hallway as she sang along to the radio. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. I have a hidden panic room at my place.” Of course she did. “So they didn’t realize I was home. But one of them was the guy in the phone conversation with Saltner. I saved part of the recording, then ran a voice recognition program while they were tossing my apartment.”

  “Goddamn it.” Roarke’s mind raced.

  “I’ll call the guys. Want me to call Wren?”

  Wren. If they’d found Marisol…

  Marisol was still talking in his ear, but her words were just gibberish now. He had to get Wren out of there and somewhere safe. He tossed his phone to the side and raced down the hallway.

  “Wren!” he hollered.

  “What?” she yelled back.

  He burst into the living room to see Wren slide an omelet onto a plate. “We need to leave.”

  She stared at him with wide eyes and opened her mouth, but whatever she said was drowned out by the shattering of a window to Roarke’s right.