Cherish Hard

by Nalini Singh

  "That's fantastic." Isa stroked back her sister's unbound hair.

  Catie tucked herself up against Isa again while stuffing her face with what appeared to be an enormous orange chocolate chip muffin. Seeing Sailor's interested glance, she held out the bag. "Want some?"

  Sailor shrugged and tore off a piece. "Thanks." No sane member of the Bishop-Esera clan ever brought only one muffin--the ensuing riot would end in bloodshed.

  When Catie smiled at him this time, it was a little devious. "Are you going to stay the night?" she asked with utmost innocence. "It's just that we only have one spare bedroom."

  "I expect you have a sofa," Sailor responded with deadpan solemnity.

  Catie pulled away her muffin with a scowl so reminiscent of Isa that Sailor knew he'd have to be very careful not to be charmed. "This is not like how it goes in the romance movies."

  "Eat your muffin, Catiebug." Isa tapped her sister on the nose in what seemed to be an affectionate holdover from Catie's childhood. "We'll go get your discharge papers sorted."

  Sailor stayed with Catie while Isa and Martha stepped out. The kid decided to share more of her cake-sized muffin with him while bombarding him with questions. During the interrogation, she managed to figure out that he was working for Fast Organic and that Isa was technically his boss.

  "No way." A long whistle. "How does that work? I mean, having your girlfriend be your boss?"

  "She's not my girlfriend." Sailor found he didn't enjoy speaking that sentence. "Though if she was, I'm man enough to handle it. Only wimps fear strong women."

  Catie held up a hand for a high five. After he'd returned it, she said, "Thanks for driving my sister. She worries a lot about me."

  "And that's not good?"

  A shrug that was very teenage in nature. "I mean, it's not her job, is it? I feel like I'm always calling her when it's my dad I should be calling." Her lips turned down at the corners. "Martha couldn't even get hold of him after my fall."

  Not so much as a mention of Jacqueline.

  And while dear dad didn't appear much better than Catie's absentee mother, the man was Catie's father. Some things were set in stone, and trying to change one of those immutable facts was a sure way to get a cracked skull and a bleeding soul.

  Sailor knew that all too well himself.

  "Your sister told me you're an athlete," he said, shifting the topic before he said something he probably shouldn't. "I've got a few in my family."

  For the first time, Catie's response was a touch wary. "Yeah?"

  "Rugby."

  Her eyes narrowed... then widened. "Holy freaking crapazoids! No wonder you look familiar!" A poke to his abdomen. "Your brother's the Bishop. Admit it."

  Sailor grinned. "Yep. Fan?"

  "Are you kidding me? He's the best! Did you see how he took down that opposition player last week? Just mowed him down. Boom, Bishop slam!"

  Always ready to talk rugby, Sailor discussed the game with Catie before nodding at the prosthetics he could see sitting against a chair on the other side of the bed. "Those your walking legs?" The metal parts were sleekly robotic with no flesh-colored exterior.

  "Yeah. I had really awesome skins on my last ones--dragons and stuff blowing up, but then I grew again. No point making these look amazing when I'm still growing. Argh!" She fell back dramatically against her pillow. "It's such a major pain to get new prosthetics fitted. It takes forever to get everything just right."

  Even though she was lying down, Sailor could tell that Catie was already over Isa's height, would probably nudge five eight or nine on her prosthetics. He chuckled. "My youngest brother has the opposite problem. He's fourteen and still waiting for his growth spurt." Catie would tower over Danny.

  "Ouch." Catie winced. "That must be sucky."

  "Danny's pretty chill about it." He took another look at the prosthetics, which appeared articulated for fluid movement. "When you run, do you use blades? I've always wanted to see what they look like in real life."

  Catie's face lit up. "I have running legs, but no blades yet. My mother said she'll pay for them as soon as I've stopped growing. They're insanely expensive." Bouncing in her hospital bed, Catie added, "I'm going crazy waiting for them, but she's right--it'd be dumb to waste the money when I'm beanpoling. And I'd be sooooo mad if I got some fitted just right, only to have to switch."

  The two of them were talking the specifics of running blades when Isa and Martha walked back into the room. Sailor, still sore about having been forced to deny that Isa was his girlfriend, reached over to tweak a lock of her hair. As Catie giggled, Isa stood on tiptoe and brushed her mouth softly over his.

  His gut clenched, his heart melting right into her hands.

  * * *

  THEY REACHED HOME AFTER ONE that morning. Martha's phone beeped with an incoming message just as they were about to walk into the house Catie shared with her father and the caregiver.

  "It's my daughter wanting to talk," Martha said. "I texted her to say I was up."

  "Tina's got a new baby who keeps her up," Catie volunteered. "But Martha only babysits sometimes because she thinks Tina should take responsibility for her own baby--Martha's not a nanny, and she raised her daughter on her own, didn't she?" The last words were spoken in a near-perfect mimicry of Martha's voice.

  Martha pressed a noisy kiss on Catie's cheek. "Cheeky girl."

  "Lies. Look at me--I'm shining my halo."

  Grinning at the obvious affection between the two, Sailor left Martha to her call--the other woman decided to stay outside in the balmy summer night while the rest of them went in.

  Catie's home had plenty of open space and lots of glass to let in light, but--as Catie had pointed out so helpfully back at the hospital--it had only a single spare bedroom. And the couch looked to be some sort of medieval torture device.

  "Oh dear," Isa said, looking at it, then looking at Sailor. "I'll take the couch."

  Sailor, his hands on his hips, just shook his head. "No way, spitfire. Even you wouldn't fit on that."

  They both looked at the torturously architectural thing with curved wooden arms; not only did it look hellaciously uncomfortable, it was barely wide enough to accommodate two seated adults. Forget about even a small person who wanted to stretch out.

  "Catie!" Isa called out. "What's with the couch?"

  Catie, whom Isa had already ensconced in her bedroom, tucking her in with kisses and hugs, called back, "Dad sold it! He said it wasn't up to his standards of style!"

  Folding her arms, Isa tapped her foot on the carpet. "I bought that couch," she muttered. "In fact, I furnished most of this house. I couldn't trust Clive with the money. Speaking of which, where the hell did he get the money for this thing? Anything this uncomfortable must've been expensive."

  Another glance at Catie's bedroom, Isa's volume soft when she said, "It was probably gambling winnings. Every so often, Clive hits it big, and that gives him just enough encouragement to keep going."

  Sailor ran his hand down her back. The idea of leaving his child and going off to gamble was alien to him--he never even left his kid brothers alone when he was in charge of them--but he knew there were men like that. He and Gabe had spent their whole lives fighting to prove themselves a different breed, more akin to the man who'd raised them than the man who'd sired them.

  While Gabe had long ago conquered his demons, Sailor's still howled.

  "Come on," he said, "let's go check out the spare bedroom."

  Isa knew which room was Martha's, so they skipped that. Next to it was Clive's, the door open.

  Isa took one look inside and backed off with her hands raised in front of her. "I'd feel weird sleeping in there. He is technically my stepfather. Ex-stepfather."

  "That would be weird," Sailor agreed. "And I don't feel right sleeping in the bed of some random dude. Especially one who puts black satin sheets on his bed." He scratched his jaw. "I bet they're slippery."

  "I don't want to think about it."

  Together
, they opened the door of the third and final bedroom. It proved to be neat and tidy, with what looked like a king-sized bed made up with white cotton sheets. "It's big enough to share," Sailor said.

  Isa looked up at him through her lashes. The tips of her ears began to go pink.

  His entire body humming in reaction, Sailor leaned down to whisper against one adorable ear. "We can carry on from our session in the water." He ran his hand down the lush curve of her rear. "To jog your memory, it involves a deliciously nude redhead in my arms."

  23

  Sizzle and Orgasm

  A RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN US WOULD never work," Isa blurted out, terrified of how fast she was falling for this gorgeous, driven man. The way he'd been with Catie, it was exactly how she'd imagined the man of her dreams would be with her baby sister. Comfortable, affectionate, amazing.

  Catie was already half in love with him.

  Just like Isa.

  "Why not?" he asked with a black scowl. "Are you still hung up on the age thing?"

  "You're twenty-three. I'm ready to settle down, have a child, build a life with someone."

  Tipping up her chin, he pressed his nose to hers. "Yeah? And who's this perfect man you're going to dump me for?" It was a growl of sound.

  Isa scowled back at him. "I haven't met him yet."

  "So you're dumping me for an imaginary man?"

  "You're deliberately misunderstanding." She glared. "How am I supposed to find him when I'm with you?"

  A shrug. "I don't care. I'm not going to cooperate in your dump-Sailor-for-an-imaginary-man scheme."

  "You're infuriating." Fisting her hands in his hair, she kissed him, releasing all her fear, all her need, all her worry.

  His hands powerful and warm at her hips, he pulled her up against the hard length of his body and met her tongue lash for lash.

  Heart pounding when it was over, she broke the kiss--and he said, "Want to hear my suggestion?"

  "No." She folded her arms and drew her eyebrows together.

  "Too bad." A kiss on the nose again, the affectionate act smashing her walls to tiny fragments. "I say we don't run, we don't hide. We try." No laughter in his expression now, only a passionate tenderness. "I'm no poet, Isa. I can't give you fancy words. But I know what we have is special. It's worth a fight."

  Isa had never backed down from a fight in her life. But this fight could well leave her bloodied and broken at the end. But her heart, her traitorous heart, it wouldn't let her walk away. Because what she felt for Sailor, it was a shooting star and an incandescent candle flame. "What," she whispered, her voice hoarse, "were you saying about a deliciously nude redhead?"

  A slow, sinful smile. "Sexiest woman I've ever met. Heartbreaker curves and skin like moonlight."

  And that was how Isa found herself getting ready for bed in the bathroom attached to the guest bedroom, with Sailor doing the same in the bedroom itself. Devil Isa had hissed at her to strip in front of him, but she had her limits.

  She'd told Sailor they'd work up to nudity.

  After kissing her until her toes curled, he'd said, "I'll enjoy unwrapping my redhead."

  Her thighs clenched as she pulled on the large T-shirt she'd borrowed from her grinning sister, the soft fabric covering her panties and hitting her mid-thigh.

  And she was dressed.

  Ready to be unwrapped.

  Stepping out of the bathroom, she caught Sailor in the process of throwing his jeans onto a chair that already held his T-shirt, his only covering white boxer briefs. That body... it made her want to whimper. He was all ridges and valleys and smooth golden skin and a tight butt that she wanted to bite. After she'd licked her way around his tattoos.

  God, what was happening to her? Isa Rain didn't have thoughts like that.

  Except, it seemed, when it came to Sailor Bishop.

  Turning around to face her, Sailor whistled. "Spitfire, you make that innocent T-shirt look indecent."

  Isa might've been unsure how to take those words if Sailor's body hadn't been making it blatant exactly what he thought of hers, the ridge of his erection pressing demandingly against the front of his briefs.

  She sucked in a hungry breath.

  And he began to stalk her.

  Isa couldn't help it. She stumbled backward and backward... until her back hit the wall.

  Coming to a stop in front of her, Sailor placed his hands palm-down on either side of her head, blocking her in against the wall in a private prison. His smile was wolfish, hungry. "No way for you to cut and run this time around."

  The warning made every tiny hair on her body rise to quivering attention, her nipples tight points.

  "Too bad I didn't remember the handcuffs." A nipping kiss of her lower lip. "We'll save them for next time."

  Her breath coming in shallow rasps, Isa gripped futilely at the back wall. Her skin was overheated. Her heart racing. And she wanted nothing more than to tumble him to the bed and tear off his briefs with her teeth. But if her mother's life had taught Isa one thing, it was to be aware of the consequences of her choices.

  Wetting her throat, she managed to say, "Did you bring protection?"

  Sailor froze. A second later, he groaned and dropped his head. "I hate myself right now," he said. "My cock hates me even more." Another pause. "Your ex-step--"

  "No." Isa shuddered. "We are not going looking in his bedside drawer. That's--" She shuddered again. "Just no."

  "Right. Which means..."

  Isa wanted to cry. "I hate us both," she muttered, clawing at the wall in her frustration.

  Sailor looked up, a gleam in his eye. "When," he said, "was the last time you made out like a teenager?"

  Not even when I was a teenager. She'd been too conscious of her weight and pale skin. "Is that what you're suggesting?" Her core felt silkily damp, and they'd barely begun.

  "My briefs stay on." His body heat pulsed against her, a near tactile caress that taunted her to lift her hands, indulge herself in him. "Everything of yours can come off."

  Brain cells finally firing, Isa put her hands on her hips. "That doesn't seem fair."

  "Who said I planned to play fair?" A deep rumble of sound as he pressed close enough that the engorged tips of her breasts were crushed against his chest. "What I am planning is to make you come so hard that you keep on wanting more of the same." His mouth closed over hers, his hands shifting to grip her wrists and pin her hands above her head.

  Isa shivered, fingers curling into her palms.

  Sailor's scent swept over her, deeply masculine and with an undertone of earth, as if the soil he so loved had seeped into his very cells. When he transferred both her wrists into one of his big hands, using his other hand to stroke her thigh as he began to kiss his way down her neck, it was all she could do to suck in air.

  Then he said, "Breathe," and she realized she hadn't been doing it at all.

  Her lungs expanded on a rush of oxygen that was almost painful, and a second later, she was sucking in another breath and sucking him in with it, the raw beauty and rough, earthy scent of Sailor a drug. "Let go of my hands." She was desperate to touch him.

  "No." His voice was a deep rumble against her throat.

  "No?" Isa struggled to think. "That's not how this works."

  "I threw away the rule book," said the unrepentant man who was currently sliding his fingers under the edge of her panties.

  Chest heaving, Isa scowled. "I get to touch you too."

  He kissed her, nipping at her lower lip as if punishing her for her reprimand. Only this punishment made her blood turn to honey, especially when he moved his hand to her breast and squeezed. She'd taken off her bra because she couldn't stand the thought of sleeping in it but now realized she'd made a tactical mistake.

  Her moan was throaty, sounded more like a porn star than sensible Isa Rain. Thank God their room wasn't right next to Martha's.

  Sailor's smile turned very, very wicked. "Oh, I see." Another squeeze.

  Moaning again, she scra
mbled to find the words. "Stop... ah... distracting me." Her breasts seemed to grow beneath the intense delight of his attention. "We were... ah... having a discussion."

  Chuckling, the infuriating man kissed her again. And this time, as he stroked his tongue against hers, he ran his thumb over her nipple in the same languid rhythm until it was hard and pebbled and so exquisitely sensitive that she felt as if she'd die.

  "Sailor." It came out a command.

  "Want something, spitfire?" he whispered against her mouth.

  "Touch me."

  Sailor squeezed her breast before dipping his head to kiss her neck once more. "I am touching you." His other hand tightened around her wrists.

  "You know what I mean."

  "I'm no mind reader," he said with a teasing glint in his eye. "And right now I'm very interested in this beautiful throat." He nipped sharply at it.

  Isa kicked him.

  Unfortunately, since she was in bare feet and he was pressed up so tight against her, she made exactly zero impact. "You're a horrible man."

  "You like me, admit it." A sucking kiss over her pulse. "Talk dirty to me, Isa. I'll give you whatever you demand."

  "Touch me... on my bare skin." She met his gaze when he looked up this time, the fire in the blue scalding.

  Isa had never been so wanted. "I love the feel of your hands on me," she said on a rush of erotic confidence. "Love how you have calluses that make your touch just rough enough."

  "Oh, I like the things you say." With that gritty purr of a statement, he ran his hand over the top of her T-shirt and lower until he hit the very bottom edge. His knuckles brushed against her thighs for an electric a second before he slipped his hand under the fabric and spread his fingers over the sensitive skin. "See," he said. "Asking for things gets you rewarded."

  Isa's skin shimmered with sensation, her pulse a skittering rush.

  Leaning in, he kissed her again. Soft, teasing little kisses that played with her mouth, made her arch toward him. When he ran his thumb across the flesh of her thighs, the very tip of his thumb brushed against the elastic edge of her panties.

  Isa couldn't help her whimper.

  "Shh." A smiling command. "We don't want Catie or Martha to hear."

  Looking at Sailor, falling into that smile, Isa shook her head. "I don't think I can be quiet if you keep doing things like that." She had to be honest, had to get him to stop before she screamed down the house.