Saved By A Stranger

by Andi Madden

  All she needed to do was bring up her knee and hit him where it hurts and she’d be out the window and gone in a flash.

  She took a deep breath. Her chest brushed against him and it was difficult to keep a clear head. Her breath caught in her throat as he leaned harder against her, her shoulder blades pressing into the wall.

  “Would that turn you on,” she whispered, lifting her head to find his dark gaze. She slid her hand between them to stroke her index finger over the front of his jeans, the denim rough under her fingertips.

  She could feel him against her, hard everywhere. “Holding me against my will, fucking me against my will?” she laughed when his eyes turned darker, his erection pressing against her crotch. “Do you want to roughen me up, just a little?”

  He swore and took a step back. “Believe me, it’s only for your best if you stay here with me. I’m not going to hurt you, if that’s what you fear.”

  He was flustered.

  She could tell by the way he dodged her gaze. She took a step after him, rising up to the tips of her feet. “I want you to try it,” she whispered, which finally earned her his gaze. The lust she found in the depths of his eyes made her take a step back, suddenly unsure who pursued whom.

  He reached out to trace his finger along her jawline. Her heart made a summersault when he started to unbutton her blouse until the fabric slid from her shoulders to the floor.

  “I think you are beautiful.” He leaned forward and kissed her shoulder, his lips cool against her skin.

  Struck speechless by his reaction, she wanted to push him away again, but couldn’t. Desire, which had simmered below the surface, unfurled.

  He kissed up her neck, murmuring something unintelligible that sounded like my wild thing, which was a stupid thing to say, but his hoarse voice nevertheless turned her on. Hell. He bit gently at her earlobe, sending shockwaves between her legs. Hardly something she wanted to fight.

  He tugged at her clothes. She let him, but she still didn’t trust him.

  Later, she’d struggle with her conscience.

  Chapter Seven

  A light rumble in her throat told Ben she wouldn’t push him again. When he kissed up her neckline, seeking her full lips, she turned her head. The message was clear, no kiss for him.

  “Trust me,” he whispered against her ear. “Just one kiss, just one.”

  She shook her head, a stubborn streak around her mouth.

  Irritation gripped his gut. He slid his hand behind her back to unclasp her bra. She folded her arms over her head, crossed wrists and closed her eyes. She gave herself up, but only offered her body, not her heart.

  He clamped his hand, hard, over her crossed wrists, putting more of his strength into it. Her eyes shot open and he gave a low laugh at the stunned look on her face.

  “Come on,” he whispered against her mouth, “try to get free.”

  She bucked against him, undoubtedly to break free of his hold in earnest, and not just that titillating wiggle she’d taunted him with a moment before.

  He shifted his entire body against hers, holding her against the wall. Need wavered up in him, the need to possess her, to be inside her, take her by force.

  He cupped her breast. Heavy and firm, it fit his hand perfectly. Her heartbeat drummed against his palm. Feeling her nipple tightening beneath his fingers made his erection painfully hard. He crushed his mouth on hers, sneaking his tongue between her lips, getting a taste of her sweetness.

  And for three fast heartbeats, her full mouth yielded under his lips. Then her teeth nipped into him with more force than he could endure.

  He let his arms drop to his side, giving her every chance to make a run for it. As if answering his thought, she fingered his jeans, her long lashes painting shadows on her cheeks. He could feel her hands shake while she pushed his jeans and briefs down his legs.

  He rid himself of both items, his cock heavy and taut against his stomach, and then took his time to shrug out of his shirt while she watched his movements like a cat afraid her mouse would disappear.

  He bent to bury his face against her breasts, hiking up her skirt until it crunched around her hips. Tasting the flushed texture of a hard nipple, he drew a soft moan from her as he sucked gently.

  When she closed her fingers around his cock, he groaned, feeling himself thicken against her palm. He wanted to thrust into her until she cried out his name. Her fingers closed around his and guided him between her legs.

  “Touch me,” she said, guiding his hand over her folds. Slick wetness met his inquiring fingers. She was as ready for him as he was for her, but he wanted to draw out the pleasure.

  He dropped to his knees, taking in the scent of her arousal. When he touched his tongue to her center, she tunneled her fingers through his hair. He again licked over her swollen clit, hearing her moan her longing. She gripped his shoulders to steady herself. He cupped her butt in both hands, kneading her flesh and tilting her hips toward him.

  He groaned thinking how he would soon be thrusting into her. But first, he kissed her, down there, plunging his tongue deep between her swollen lips. Swearing softly, she dug her fingers into his shoulder muscles. He welcomed the pain, welcomed any proof she was enjoying herself as much as he was.

  He paused, hearing the clicking steps from a high-heeled woman walking past the apartment door. Liz relaxed her grip on his shoulders, but her muscles flexed as if she made herself ready to flee.

  He feared he’d hear a key in the lock, but the steps faded into the distance and were gone a second later.

  Relieved, he drew in a deep breath. What the fuck was he doing? He was buck naked. If the woman had come into the apartment they wouldn’t have had enough time to dress and leave through the window. His gaze found his clothes, the gun somewhere in the pile, the small book in the inside pocket of his jacket.

  Still, he couldn’t turn away from her heat. He kissed her inner thigh, her skin soft and smooth and quivering under his tongue. Taking his time wasn’t an option anymore.

  Kissing his way up over her stomach and the dip between her breasts, he rose. Holding her heated gaze, he grasped her hips and lifted her, his cock sliding between her legs, coating him with her wet juices. She snug her legs around his waist, a whoosh of breath coming from her mouth as he slammed her hard against the wall. She moaned, and for a moment, he feared he’d hurt her, feared he was too rough with her after all.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Should I stop?” His breath stopped at the idea he’d hurt her.

  Liz gave a sob, causing him more alarm. Her fingernails dug into his back, and she tipped her head against the wall, meeting his gaze. Then she moved her hips, rubbing her folds and clit along his cock. It was almost enough to make him explode. Groaning, he tilted her hips toward him, the head of his cock prodding at her wet entrance.

  He slid into her with one long, hard thrust, filling her to the hilt with his cock.

  He slowly pumped inside her, her pussy tightly clamped around his shaft. Short, gasping moans tore from her throat, and he circled her mouth with his finger, wishing she’d allow him to kiss her. When she took his finger into the warmth of her mouth, sucking, he felt his balls tighten.

  He studied her face—the lust in her dark half-lidded eyes, the way she sucked in her bottom lip, her blushed cheeks. All mine, he thought, and fucked her harder, knowing he was about to come.

  He slid his hand between their bodies, finding the swollen bud of her clit. Pressing, rubbing her there, he pumped into her wet heat, his cock aching for release. Her head tipped back, a small thud against the wall.

  “Harder please,” she whispered, bucking her hips against him to emphasize her demand. “God, Ben, please.”

  The emotion in her voice sent a shiver through him, his self-control slipping. Wrapping his hand in her hair, he pulled her close. Without giving her a choice, he plunged his tongue inside her mouth, taking her breath, swallowing her surprised cry.

  Then her hand was around his nec
k, her mouth hot on his, her kiss hungry and hard. Her body trembled under his hands as he slammed into her, nailing her against the wall, fucking her in rough strokes that made him gasp for breath as her pussy convulsed around his cock as she came.

  With a shout, he thrust deep into her, burying his shaft in her to the hilt, coming in hot spurts inside her, feeling how her muscles milked his cock.

  She leaned her head against his shoulder, her breathing slowly calming. He slid out of her tight hold when she lowered her feet to the floor.

  “Liz,” he began, but she twisted from his grasp, shaking her head. His heart grew heavy just looking at her slender back, the fast movements with which she put her clothes on. Why she’d worn a mortified expression before she turned her back, he couldn’t comprehend.

  Giving her some space, he went to use the bathroom. Probably contrary to her belief, he wasn’t interested in the physical only. She was all female, soft, lush, wet, yet so stubborn. He’d wanted her before, but now he was falling hard and fast.

  He walked back to her, intended to figure out a way to gain her trust.

  She stood at the windowsill, one leg perched on top of it. She wore his jacket. She merely raised her eyebrow. The sight of her calm smile sent his heart jumping into his throat and, a split-second later, hot anger hit his gut. The book was inside his jacket, which she undoubtedly knew.

  “I’m sorry, Ben.” She pointed his fricking gun at his heart. “This isn’t going to work.”

  * * * * *

  She ran home in a mad dash.

  She let herself in through her open bedroom window. The missing bricks in the wall of the building made a good a makeshift ladder if one was strong enough, but she had scraped open her hands and knees as she climbed up.

  Her bedroom came as a shock—bed messed up and broken, ropes left carelessly on the floor. She ran her fingertips over the wood, feeling the splinters. It looked as if he had just stood up, breaking her bed in the process. She’d thought perhaps a knot had come loose.

  But he’d used brute force.

  She took clean jeans and a shirt from the dresser, slipped into them. Her gaze hit the book next to the keyboard, the one she’d taken out from the library.

  “Rome in Ashes,” she read.

  Her life, she thought, was in ashes too.

  A ripple went through her and she pulled her head up. She grabbed the keys from the desk, opened the small door leading downstairs and headed toward the basement.

  * * * * *

  Where else would she run except home?

  Ben climbed up the building’s wall and stepped inside her bedroom, taking a deep breath, feeling oddly at home in her bedroom.

  His gaze fell on the pile of clothes on the floor, the black notebook peeking out from beneath it. Liz was nowhere to be seen, but the quiet seemed treacherous.

  She was here somewhere, he was sure of it. Taking the book into his hands, he was tempted, for half a second, to leave again.

  Then he placed the book on the desk and began searching for his girl. The soft snick of a door reached his ears and he followed the sound. On the balls of his feet, he snuck down the stairs, her scent leading the way.

  When he found her in a small storage room, smelling of sugar and cocoa and…gasoline, he tensed, suddenly sick to his stomach.

  “Liz, no,” he said quietly, fearing to startle her, but also fearing if he didn’t speak up, she’d throw the torch made of what looked like a wooden chair leg with linen wrapped around it. The torch flickered in the darkness, throwing shadows against the walls.

  Her shoulders hunched as if someone had slapped her hard.

  “This is none of your business,” she said, and he was surprised how much insult she could pack into the word. “Leave.”

  He made a silent step toward her that nevertheless had her swiveling around so fast her hair whipped around her face. He neither liked the strange glimmer in her eyes, nor the way her mouth twisted.

  “Leave,” she said again, raising her hand so he had trouble seeing her features through the flames.

  He shook his head. “I don’t know why you do this, but I won’t let you. Whatever it is, I’ll fix it.”

  She laughed, a sound that made him ball his hands when he heard the sadness that lingered in her tone. He wanted to wrap her into his arms and kiss her until she felt better. But he realized that her situation might just be too complicated to be solved by offering a calming kiss on the forehead.

  She’d lowered her hand again and he found himself staring into her dark gaze. She looked haunted and hurt, and he wanted so much to help her so she could be carefree and happy.

  But he definitely couldn’t let her torch down the neighborhood, she’d be never able to forgive herself.

  “Liz, we both know you don’t want to do this.” Why did she want to do it? Was she trying to cash in on her insurance policy? Was she broke? He lifted his hands in a calming gesture and stepped toward her.

  “Honey,” he said, “let me help—”

  Fuck, he thought, as he saw her squinting at him with outrage. He shouldn’t have called her “honey”.

  She flicked the torch over her shoulder.

  The heat hit her face like a blazing punch. The torch had fallen to the ground in the farthest corner of the small storage room and flames licked at the wooden shelves that rose from the ground up all the way to the ceiling.

  Frozen, she stared as the flames spread to the finely woven linen bags emblazed with her shop’s logo. Hundreds of them lined the shelves, still in their cardboard boxes. she’d planned to give those bags away to her loyal customers. Now the flames started licking at them with gentle tongues.

  Her throat went tight and she coughed. The smoke curling in the air made it harder to breathe. She should get the fuck out of the house, but somehow her legs wouldn’t move.

  Ben had run off.

  She lifted her shirt away from her skin, sweat beading down her back. And still, she couldn’t move, watching how the flames spread.

  Despite the flames, she grew cold, started to shiver. She was doing it all wrong, all wrong. Her cold-blooded strategy, out the window.

  This fire wouldn’t fool any insurance. Like the people who used lighters, who set the gasoline on fire instead of letting it explode, she had made mistakes. Using a torch, what was she thinking? She’d read about it, read that this was why people got caught, got sent to jail.

  Stupid, stupid her.

  She did wrong, so wrong.

  And then there was Ben and the fire extinguisher in his hand, and then everything went black.

  * * * * *

  Cold needles pricked at her face, a roaring in her ears.

  She licked her lips, trying to drag her eyelids open, and swallowed a mouthful of water. Blindly she reached for the faucets, but hard hands clamped around her wrists, holding her in place.

  “C-c-c-cold,” she said. “Stop it, stop.”

  “Not yet,” she heard Ben’s rumble of a voice, “the shower will do you good.”

  But the water hitting her face and slicking her clothes against her body turned a notch warmer.

  “There’s nothing like a cold shower,” he said, “to bring you back to the living.”

  He stroked his hands up her arms and settled around her shoulders. “I won’t let you set fire to this place. It’s wrong, and in your heart you know it is.”

  She wanted to slap him for speaking the truth, but her shoulders slumped, shame rising in her for what she had done.

  If he hadn’t stopped her…what if the fire had hurt other people? Her body started trembling, hard, violent shivers that let her teeth clash together.

  “How bad—” she swallowed. “How badly did I damage the basement?”

  “Nothing a lick of paint won’t fix,” he said. “The shelves are ruined though. The smell of smoke is moderate. In this neighborhood, she doubt anyone alerts the fire brigade. What were you thinking, opening a shop in this desolate area?”

 
She groaned, having asked herself the same question more than once.

  He started massaging her shoulders, and she let out a sigh when he found her knotted muscles. Like an avalanche, today’s images came pouring into her mind.

  And what could she do?

  Nothing, as usual.

  She could do nothing. Nothing as Ben shot the man who was supposed to save her. She could do nothing.

  She shrugged out of her shirt and let the water hit her breasts and stomach. She tried to peel off the pair of jeans.

  “Shit.” Her fingernail broke as she opened the zipper. “Shit,” she cursed again, the wet denim so tight against her legs it wouldn’t peel off.

  “Let me,” he said, startling her. He tugged the wet fabric slowly but steadily over her hips and bottom. “Lift your foot,” he said, and she did, first one then the other until her jeans landed with a wet flop on the floor. “Better now?”

  His mouth brushed lightly against hers, a strange comfort. When he flicked his tongue against her bottom lip.

  “Make me forget,” she said, surprised to hear the edge in her voice. “Make me forget today.”

  Reaching out, she grabbed a fistful of his shirt with one hand, and reached with her other between his legs. “You are hard,” she whispered, tracing a finger over the ridge of his erection. “Make me come, make me come, hard, until I stop thinking.”

  His stomach muscles moved as he stripped off his shirt, zipped open his pants. She licked her lips as his erection sprang free. He kicked off his shoes, pants and briefs, stepped into the shower, turned on the water again. Turning his face into the spray, his hair turned darker, slicked against his head.

  Seeking the heat of his mouth, she leaned forward. He turned his head, her lips landing against his jaw. She found no laughter in his eyes, no playfulness. She turned, pressed her cheek against the cool, wet tile. But she couldn’t look into his eyes.

  “Turn around,” he said, his hand gripping her shoulder. “Look at me.”

  “I want it like this,” she said, rubbing her ass against his groin. “Do me from behind.”