It was Aidan.
She swallowed hard, pushed past him and marched through the small, neat living room to the kitchen beyond. She hit the light switch on the wall and kept walking, straight through the bright yellow room to the service porch.
Aidan was right behind her.
She heard his heavy steps, but would have felt his presence even if she couldn't hear him.
She hadn't really expected him to leave, but oh, how she'd hoped he would. At the moment, her emotions were as tangled as her wind-tossed hair and spending more time with Aidan wasn't going to help any.
For heaven's sake, he'd jumped out of a helicopter to ride to her rescue. She leaned on the gleaming white washing machine, closed her eyes and she could still see him. jumping out of that chopper, hitting the water and disappearing beneath the surface. Even before she'd known it was Aidan, she'd been caught up in the … heroics of the diver.
Then, when she'd seen him grinning up at her, her heart had jumped in her chest. The man affected her in ways no one else ever had.
And, damn it, she didn't know what to do about that.
"Finish," Aidan said, taking hold of her arm and turning her around to face him.
She ignored the blistering sensation of heat that snaked up her arm from where his skin met hers. "Finish what?"
"What you were saying. The motorcycle—and the—" he prompted.
She inhaled sharply, blew it out and tapped the toe of her soaking wet shoe against the floor. Glancing up at him, she demanded, "You're not going to let this go, are you?"
"Nope."
Another breath. Another stall. She shifted her gaze from his to the window over the back door. Rain pelted against the glass. Though it was barely noon, it looked like dusk outside. Wind rattled the window glass and howled under the eaves of the house, sounding like lost souls looking for a way out.
Well hell. She knew just how they felt.
She needed a way out of this situation and she didn't think she was going to get one. Aidan's hand tightened on her arm.
Finally she turned to meet his gaze again. "Fine. The kiss, all right? Happy now?"
"Delirious."
"Good. Now go away."
"Not likely."
"Seriously, Aidan." She kept her voice steady, which was no small task, considering the way her heart was thumping in her chest, "I think you should leave."
"Probably should," he admitted, sliding his hand up her arm. "But not about to."
"This is so not a good idea," she muttered, already leaning toward him, lifting her face.
"I hear that."
"But we're going to anyway," she said and ended with a hopeful, "aren't we?"
"Oh, yeah."
* * *
Seven
« ^ »
Terry sighed into him as Aidan pulled her close. His arms came around her and Terry lost herself in his eyes. Blue. Deeper than the sky, wilder than the sea.
Then his mouth took hers, her own eyes closed and stars exploded behind her shuttered lids. Every square inch of her body lit up and flashed like a neon sign at midnight. Tingles of awareness skittered through her and she forgot to breathe.
But then, air was overrated anyway.
He parted her lips and her tongue tangled with his in a frenzied, twisting dance of rocketing desire. Her heartbeat ratcheted into a fierce pounding that nearly deafened her. Her blood raced, her mind went blissfully blank and she gave herself up to the incredible sensation of taking and being taken.
His hands swept up and down her back and finally settled on her behind. She felt the imprint of each of his fingers against the cold, damp fabric of her shorts and he heated her so that she wouldn't have been surprised to see steam rising up around them.
She reached for him, linking her arms around his neck and pulling him closer, tighter, to her. Mouths meshed, breath mingling, sighs humming in the air, she felt him surround her with the kind of heat she'd never known before.
This was new.
This was amazing.
This was terrifying.
One small corner of her brain remained oddly rational despite the rush of hunger leaving her dazzled and breathless. And when he pulled his mouth from hers to run his tongue down the length of her throat, Terry tipped her head back, stared at the ceiling and tried to listen to that rationality.
She knew this was a mistake. Knew that there could be nothing between her and this man. And knew, without a doubt, that if he stopped touching her, she'd simply dissolve into a sticky, gooey puddle of unresolved want.
A low, deep tingle started just south of the pit of her stomach. She twisted against him, rocking her hips instinctively against his, pressing close, needing … needing…
"You're killing me," Aidan whispered, his breath brushing her skin until goose bumps raced gleefully up and down her spine.
"Trust me," she managed to say, "I don't want you dead."
He chuckled and she felt the low vibration of his laughter move through his body. Her hands swept across his back, tracing muscles barely hidden beneath the soft fabric of his T-shirt. And oh, she wanted his skin beneath her hands. She wanted to define every inch of his sculpted chest and back with her fingertips. She wanted to trail her hands down his body slowly, watching his eyes flash and spark as she took his length in her hands.
"Oh, boy," she whispered brokenly as her own thoughts fired her need to a fever pitch that left her nearly breathless.
"Yeah," he murmured, nibbling at the base of her throat, "just what I was thinking. Need to touch you."
"Oh, yeah. Now. Please now," she said, shutting down that small rational voice in her head. She didn't want reason. She didn't want to think.
She wanted an orgasm, damn it.
His hands moved, sliding between their bodies to the waistband of her shorts. Her breath came fast and furious as she felt him fumble with the button and zipper. Silently she cried, Now, now, now. Hurry, hurry, hurry.
She was so close.
It had been so long.
Too long since she'd felt a man's hands on her.
And even then, it hadn't been like this.
It had never been like this.
Terry fought for air. Fought to stand still. Fought to not knock his hands out of the way and undo her shorts herself.
Finally, finally, she felt the button give and the zipper slide down and she groaned as he slid one hand across her abdomen. "Aidan…"
"Have to touch you, Terry. Have to feel your heat. Now. Now."
"Now," she agreed and kept a tight grip on his shoulders as his hand slipped beneath the elastic band of her silk and lace panties and down, further, further until his fingertips touched her core and she jolted in his arms. "Aidan!"
He bit her neck gently, lightly, then stroked her skin with his tongue as his fingers worked their magic. He dipped first one finger and then two into her depths and she rocked against him, wanting more, wanting to feel him deeper, wanting to feel a different part of him, full and deep within her body.
She shifted her position, widening her stance, welcoming him higher, closer, and still it wasn't enough.
"Oh … my … Aidan…"
"More," he murmured and before she knew what was happening, he'd pulled his hand free, then tugged her shorts and panties down and off. Grabbing her at the waist, he lifted her, then plopped her down onto the washing machine.
The cold metal bit into her skin, but nothing could stop the flames consuming her. Terry didn't think about what they were doing. Didn't stop to care that he was still dressed while she was mostly naked on her friend's service porch.
The rain hammered at the roof and windows. The wind shrieked and slammed into the house. It was as if even nature had been pushed farther than it could take and had been forced to surrender itself to the moment.
Terry ran her hands over his face, smoothing her thumbs over his mouth, his cheekbones. Her vision was blurred with want. Her breathing staggered in and out of her lungs.
He leaned in and kissed her hungrily, desperately, grinding his mouth against hers in a fierce assault that left her trembling and starving for more. But he pulled away, despite her clinging hands, despite her soft moans of protest.
His big, strong hands grabbed her hips and pulled her close to the edge of the steel machine and then he parted her thighs, pushing her legs apart with gentle determination.
"Aidan…" she whispered and heard the plea in her own voice and couldn't be embarrassed by it. She was too far gone. Too far along the road of no return. She knew only need. Knew only the hunger that had her in its grasp and wouldn't let go. "Touch me."
He cupped her cheek in the palm of one hand, bent to kiss her briefly, then moved back to stare into her eyes while he dipped his fingers into her heat again. In and out, his fingers built a rhythm that she felt right down to her bones.
"I've never wanted anyone the way I want you. Never."
She laughed. Shortly, harshly, desperately. "Then take me, already."
He grinned and that dimple of his shot a flame of something sweet and sharp into her heart. Grabbing her hips with both hands again, he dropped to one knee in front of her and Terry's breath stopped. She knew what he was going to do. Knew it, felt it and wanted it with a passion more fierce than anything she'd ever felt before.
His strong hands gripped her hips, holding her in place. Her heart stopped—hell, the world stopped—as she watched him lean in to take her in the most intimate way possible.
His mouth covered her and she groaned aloud, rocking into him. Leaning back, she braced her hands on the washing machine, searching for purchase in a suddenly spinning universe. But Aidan's hands on her hips kept her centered even when she felt herself falling, falling, into a chasm filled with spikes of pleasure and whirlpools of almost delirious need.
He tasted her, his tongue stroking, licking, tasting. His breath dusted her heat, pumping her even higher, faster. Again and again, he dipped into her center, his tongue defining every line, every curve, every inner most secret.
And Terry watched him, unable to look away. Unable to take her gaze from him. Her body rocked in his grasp as she rode the crest of a wave that had been too long banked inside her. She felt herself spiraling, flying faster. A blissful sort of tension gripped her and tightened almost painfully. Her goal was close, and getting closer with every passing second.
She lifted one hand and cupped the back of his head. His short, black hair felt soft beneath her palm. His tongue stroked her core again, in a long, stroking caress that sent her rushing forward toward the fireworks she knew were waiting.
"Aidan!" She shouted his name as the first spasm shattered what was left of her control. Holding him tightly to her, she concentrated solely on the feel of him so intimately joined to her. Her body trembled, her heart ached.
And when the fireworks finally exploded within, she called his name again.
This time in a broken whisper.
When the last of her climax had passed, Aidan stood up and pulled her into the circle of his arms.
She melted into him, locking her legs around his middle and drawing him in close. She staggered him.
His own heart pounded in tandem with hers. He'd felt her release in every cell of his body. He'd felt the joy, experienced the pleasure and shared the hunger.
And now he wanted more.
Sweeping his hands up, he bracketed her face in his palms and stared into eyes gone glassy with unleashed passion.
"Aidan," she said, struggling to catch her breath, "that was…"
"…just a warm-up," he finished for her and kissed her, swallowing her sigh. Her arms came around him and she scooted closer to him on the stupid washing machine. "I want you," he said when he could manage to tear himself off her mouth. "I want you really bad."
"I'm so glad," she said, giving him a quick smile that shattered something inside him. She leaned in to kiss him again, then stopped, holding him at arm's length as she looked deeply into his eyes. "But what about the bet?"
The bet.
Aidan's already fogged over brain started clicking. If he gave in to what he wanted, he'd lose that stupid bet and end up in a grass skirt and a coconut bra. And what was worse, he'd have to listen to his brothers ragging on him the way he'd been hassling them for the last few weeks.
He looked at Terry. Felt the slim strength of her legs locked around his hips. Noted the full, luscious lips just a breath away from his.
Didn't take long to make up his mind.
"Screw the bet."
"I was so hoping you'd say that," Terry whispered, and dropped her hands to the waistband of his jeans.
The backs of her fingers brushed against his abdomen and Aidan's body tightened even further. If he didn't have her soon, he was a dead man. And he wouldn't be dying happy.
"Right there with you, babe," he muttered, dropping a kiss on the top of her head, the curve of her shoulder.
"This is crazy."
"Oh, yeah, no doubt."
"And so necessary," she whispered on a choked off laugh.
"Right again. Love a woman who's right so often."
"Unusual man," she murmured as she finally worked the last button of his fly free.
"I like to think so," he managed to say through clenched teeth.
"No underwear," she whispered, sliding her hand down, down, bingo.
"Too confining." He hissed in another breath as she stroked him.
"So are your jeans."
"Good point." He let go of her long enough to shove at his jeans—and his cell phone rang. "Damn it."
"Don't answer it," she urged, scraping her palms up now, under his shirt, across his chest.
"Have to. I'm on call," he muttered grimly, already digging for the damn thing out of his jeans pocket. He flipped it open, checked the number and cursed again, viciously. He glanced at her. "It's the base."
Stepping away from her reluctantly, he answered it. "What?"
"Hey, boy, we got another call. Get your ass back here."
J.T.'s voice sounded almost cheerful—for that alone, Aidan wanted to wring his neck. Shoving one hand through his hair, he muttered, "What's up?"
"Some guy fell off a charter fishing boat. Nobody noticed till they got back to the dock." J.T. snorted. "Apparently the guy was a real idiot and people were so grateful that he was 'quiet,' they never questioned it."
"Who the hell would go fishing in this weather?"
"Got enough money to convince the captain, a charter boat's gonna give it a go. You coming or what?"
"Yeah. Be there in fifteen." Aidan flipped the phone closed, heaved a sigh and buttoned up his jeans. Then bending down, he grabbed Terry's shorts and tossed them to her.
"You're leaving."
"Have to."
"So," she said, giving him a smile he knew she wasn't feeling. "I'm not the only idiot out on the water today."
"Looks that way." He watched her and everything in him wanted to ignore the call to duty. For the first time … ever, he wanted to blow it all off. To stay here. To lose himself in a woman he'd known less than a week.
That shocked the hell out of him.
He scraped one hand across his face, shoved the phone back into his pocket and stepped up close to her, still perched on the edge of the washing machine. A buzz of passion, excitement, still coursed through him. He reached out and took her face between his palms. Kissing her once, twice, he pulled back and looked into her eyes for a long minute before speaking again.
"Do me a favor?"
She licked her lips and sent a white-hot blast of need shooting right through him. "What?"
Aidan inhaled slowly, deeply, and let the air slide from his lungs. "Stay home today. Keep the shop closed."
"Aidan, I—"
"Trust me," he interrupted neatly. "Nobody's going to be out shopping today. They'll all be hunkering down, waiting for the hurricane."
She sighed. "If the hurricane is coming, then I need to go to the shop. Board up
the windows. Donna told me where everything is and—"
"I'll do it."
She bristled. "I'm not helpless, Aidan. I can do it."
"Didn't say you were helpless," he muttered, wondering where the soft buzz of sexual electricity had gone. "Just—wait for me, all right? I'll help when I'm off-duty. You want to start boarding up here, okay by me. Just watch yourself."
For a second or two, he thought she might argue. Then she nodded.
"I will."
He kissed her again, one last, lingering kiss filled with promise and disappointment and regret. Then he took a step back and turned for the doorway to the kitchen. "Gotta go."
"Aidan?"
He stopped to look at her. "Be careful out there."
A slow, wicked smile curved his mouth. "I'm always careful, babe." And then he was gone.
* * *
Eight
« ^ »
The neighbors helped.
It seemed when hurricane season rolled around, there were no strangers.
Rain slashed at Baywater, coming in so fast and so furiously that it was hard to see as far as across the street. The wind whipped through the trees and tore loose shingles off houses that shuddered with the force of the pie-hurricane gusts.
Donna had been prepared, Terry gave her friend points for that. All of the wood used for boarding up the windows and glass topped doors was stacked neatly in the garage and clearly labeled, telling Terry exactly where each piece went. With the help of a couple of neighbors, Donna's house was as protected as it was going to get in just a couple of hours.
Then there was nothing to do but wait.
Making herself a cup of coffee, Terry winced as she listened to the slam of hammering rain crashing against the house. She kept the TV on, as one of Donna's neighbors had warned her to listen for evacuation notices.
Her stomach churned and her nerves were stretched to the breaking point. She cradled the coffee cup between her palms and tried not to notice the howl and shriek of the wind as it whipped past the house.
THE LAST REILLY STANDING Page 7
