by Amy Olle
He wasn’t lying or being melodramatic when he’d warned her about his bent for hurting people. In that one, and only one, respect, he was exactly like his dad. Inevitably, he destroyed everyone and everything he cared about.
Which wasn’t to say he didn’t hate himself for it, or that he didn’t regret the hurt he’d caused her so soon after their physical connection. But ultimately it was an act of kindness. He was trying to save her from a more severe injury later.
Arlo, curled into a tight ball on the couch, lifted his head groggily and greeted Leo with a croaky meow.
With one hand, Leo scooped up the fur ball. “C’mon, guard kitty, time to make the rounds.”
At the sliding glass doors, Leo stepped into his flip-flops while Arlo climbed up his shoulder and settled like a mantle around his neck.
Outside, the day was already hot, with a bright sun blazing in a cloudless blue sky. As he did the previous morning and night, and periodically throughout the day, he walked the perimeter of the property, checking for any signs of trouble or unwanted visitors.
Convinced no one besides he and Prue had been on the property, he returned indoors.
In the kitchen, he filched a can of tuna fish that never found its way into a cupboard off the counter. With the first couple of cranks on the can opener, a whiff of tuna wafted on the air and brought Arlo scrambling to him. The cat wove between and around Leo’s legs, his meows growing more impatient with every second that passed.
After delivering Arlo’s feast, Leo settled on a barstool at the kitchen island with his cell phone. A few minutes into his call, while the operator had him on hold, Prue’s bedroom door opened behind him.
He swiveled in her direction, and when he saw her, the punch of lust nearly knocked him off his stool. She was dressed in her bathing suit, and the tiny scrap of fabric only hid a few key places on her body from his probing gaze. His tongue slipped out to lick his bottom lip as he recalled what lay beneath the scanty material.
He dragged his eyes to her face. Their gazes collided, and his lust shifted into a longing so raw and visceral he gasped with the force of it.
In her eyes, hurt and confusion swirled.
He opened his mouth—to explain, to apologize, to say I told you so—but no words existed that could chase away her wounded look. It was like those months after his mom died, when he was too young to understand what had happened, and why everyone around him appeared so lost and broken. The fear had boiled up to choke him, and for months, or maybe years, he couldn’t speak. Everyone worried that he wasn’t talking, and their worry only tightened the stranglehold of fear around his throat.
On his phone, the operator returned to the line and he blinked away the memories. He gestured to Prue that he’d be a minute longer.
When she passed by him, her light scent teased his nostrils. His attention riveted to her backside as she moved about the kitchen. The soft sway of her hips transfixed him, and filled him with satisfaction when he recalled the way he’d gripped those hips as he’d eased inside her.
At the toaster, she shoved two slices of bread into the slats and pushed down the levers. A grape disappeared inside her mouth and he studied the puffy outline of her lips as she crammed a plastic cup full of ice from the freezer.
While he answered questions about his address and billing information, she buttered the toast and slathered strawberry jelly across the surface, her small hands moving with light, graceful motions. She set the plate of toast in front of him and dropped two more slices into the toaster.
When the operator put him on hold again, he lifted a slice of toast to his lips and bit into it with a crunch. The shock of sweetness erupted inside his mouth and he frowned, trying to recollect the last time he’d tasted any of the food he ate.
With her toast and ice water, she crossed to the patio doors and stepped outside, leaving him to finish his phone conversation in private.
A technical glitch meant the call lasted another half hour before he joined her outside. The refreshing breeze that often blew off the lake was absent that morning, and the sun’s heat baked the wood decking.
He moved to the shade but pulled up when he ducked beneath the alcove. Lounging in the hammock, she’d hooked her dark, wet hair over one shoulder and worked at braiding it in a long rope. Water still clung to her body from the lake, and the few fingers of warm sunlight peeping through the canopy kissed her smooth skin.
But her beauty wasn’t even the sexiest thing about her just then. She was lost in her thoughts, and a soft, serene expression played across her features. At the sight, his breath caught in his lungs. All the blood rushed to his cock.
He wanted her again. What would it be like to make love to her slowly? To orchestrate her arousal, keeping her high and tight until he was ready to bring her to completion, only after a long, slow torture of pleasure?
He couldn’t wait to find out.
“What are you thinking about?” The question was out before he’d formulated it in his mind and deemed it too dangerous to speak.
She started to find him standing so near. Pink touched her cheeks. “Oh, nothing.”
“It didn’t look like nothing.”
Apprehension glittered in her bright eyes. “Uh, well, I was wondering what’s at the bottom of a black hole.”
That surprised a smile from him. “Why didn’t you want to tell me that?”
“I didn’t want you to be mad at me.”
At the catch in her voice, a pang struck him in the center of his chest. “Why would I be mad?”
“I don’t know.” Some emotion chased across her face too quickly for him to read.
Except it was obvious she knew exactly why she feared his reaction, she just wasn’t going to tell him.
He held out her cell phone. “We’ve got internet.”
An irresistible smile playing on her kissable mouth, she cradled the phone between her breasts. “Thank you.”
He watched the smile reach her eyes, and he suddenly found himself wanting things he couldn’t have. Things that were dangerous to him. It felt a little like standing at the edge of a pier while the waves crashed over the boardwalk to knock into him and trying not to fall into the water. For surely if he fell, he might not survive the crushing force of the churning sea below.
Standing beneath the low-slung pergola, he raised his arms and gripped one of the wooden crossbeams. In the distance, the waves crested and receded in their rhythmic dance, but without a breeze, the summer heat was oppressive, stifling and unrelenting.
“I was wondering, what happened to Arlo’s eye?”
“I don’t know,” she said softly. “I went to the shelter to adopt a dog and they were taking him to be put down. He’d already lost the eye and no one wanted to adopt him.”
Oddly, Leo’s heart thundered against his rib cage. With a scowl, he moved to lean against a pillar, his bare back pressed to the weathered wood post.
“He’s a great cat. I’m glad you believed he was worth rescuing.”
Her eyes went all soft and watery. “Me, too. He’s such a sweetie.”
Pushing away from the post, he moved to the hammock and climbed in on the opposite end, carefully entwining their legs, bare skin to bare skin.
Catching one of her feet, he rubbed the arch with the pad of his thumb. “How long have you had him?”
“Only a couple of months.” A charming blush touched her cheeks when her foot brushed against his erection. “He was so skittish when I brought him home, I think he lived under my bed the whole first month.”
His hand smoothed up her calf. “He’s lucky to have you.”
When his fingers danced along her inner thigh, the color on her cheeks heightened. “I think I’m the lucky one.”
Compelled by the look in her eyes, he sat. “How so?” he asked, his voice shaky.
“It took a while, but eventually he let me love him.”
Leo stilled, frozen by her words and the delicate smile pulling at the corners of
her plump mouth.
He placed his foot on the ground, careful not to tip them out of the hammock, and draped her legs across his thighs. His cock strained toward her but he ignored it, taking a moment to drink her in. Fascinated by the color of her hair, his hand came up to touch the strands of rich brown and burnished gold.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said.
She laughed as though he’d made a joke.
With the tips of his fingers brushed the spot between her breasts where the swimsuit plunged low. In the wake of his touch, goose bumps rose across her fevered flesh. Her nipples pebbled and his cock jumped.
He ached with wanting her. He couldn’t recall ever wanting a woman so much. Honestly, he couldn’t imagine a time when he wouldn’t want her, or when his body would have its fill of her. Probably because he’d gone so long without sex.
That had to be it. Nothing else could explain how she’d managed to hijack his every thought and emotion, despite his resistance. He was the best resister. He’d resisted every woman, every pleasure for four years.
Now she was all he could think about. All he wanted. All he’d ever want again.
He smoothed his palms over the soft skin of her inner thighs. Her gaze found his and she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. Hooking the crotch of her bathing suit around one finger, he pulled the fabric aside and, with one fingertip, traced the crease of her opening.
A sound vibrated in her throat and her eyes fell shut. His fingers worked her body, searching out her pleasure points. She angled her hips upward for his touch and he rewarded her, which pulled more enthusiastic sounds from her.
God, he loved her sounds. As if she couldn’t decide what surprised her more—his bold touches or the way her body reacted to them.
Every single time.
Her breathy moans sent a hot lick of fire spiraling through him as he stroked her. When her body opened for him, a primitive groan ripped from his chest.
“That’s it, baby.” He urged her on, his voice not entirely steady.
The intoxicating musk of her arousal danced around him as he continued his tender assault. He felt himself falling, pulled under by her scent and her little noises. By the way her body wept for him. By her faith and freedom as her arousal climbed higher. By the way she forgave him when he lashed out at the world.
Struggling to maintain control of himself, he tugged the straps of her swimsuit down her shoulders to reveal her plump breasts. He cupped her and kissed the sweet, puckered flesh around her nipples as he helped her wiggle the suit over her hips. When the bathing suit hung around one ankle, she kicked and the scrap of material landed on the deck with a sodden squish.
He plucked kisses from her mouth, soft, slow kisses sprinkled with warm sighs and little laughs for their precarious placement in the hammock. He hadn’t had fun with a woman in as long as he could remember. Maybe ever.
A devilish plan formed in his mind.
“It’s so hot out here.” Arousal thickened his voice. “Are you hot?”
“Yes.” She sounded out of breath.
Stretching, he reached for her water and snagged an ice cube from the glass with two fingers. When he touched the ice to her nipple she sucked a sharp gasp between her teeth. Circling the peak, the bud puckered and she lifted her arms above her head, giving him free rein over her body. Rivulets of water soon trailed down and between her breasts to her stomach.
He lapped at the stream with his hot tongue.
She guided him with her throaty moans and desperate pleas. He trailed the ice around her naval and then dragged the cube through her soft curls. Her eyes flew open and the haze of arousal clouding their pure blue depths nearly shattered his fragile control.
She whimpered and he pressed the frozen cube to her core. The shock tore a cry of pleasure from her throat and she threw her head back. Her chest rose and fell with her rapid breathing while he played with her, teasing her until melted ice trickled down her slit to pool under her bottom.
With his tongue, he reached inside her. His name shot from her as shock and pleasure. She thrust her hands through his hair and rolled her hips with gentle gyrations while he licked and ate, sucking in freezing water along with the moisture from her body.
Fire and ice.
When the cube had melted to a small nub, he withdrew it. He kissed her again, savoring the coolness that lingered on her fleshy lips. Then, over the plane of her stomach, his gaze captured hers. One corner of his mouth lifted with his smile as he sucked the ice cube between his teeth.
Her eyes went wide.
The smile still playing on his lips, he moved over her and with one languid glide, nudged his thick shaft inside her. The feel of her sent a painful rush of pleasure through him, the bliss so pure and perfect that it seared him.
Suddenly he wasn’t smiling. She moaned his name and he squeezed his eyes shut, absorbing the feel of her sweet flesh, so snug and soft. Then he started to move.
He pumped his hips, withdrawing only so that he might melt into her softness again, and again. Alarm bells were going off inside his skull, but he was helpless to react to them with her feminine moans cascading down on him.
She was supposed to be the inexperienced one, and he the one in command, but she’d taken control of him, wringing more out of him than he had to give.
A sob gathered in his throat and he pressed his forehead to her shoulder. Their fire was too bright, too hot. It scalded, but he couldn’t turn away from her. She was the light after so much darkness. Redemption after the fall.
His thrusts became urgent, her power holding him to her. Commanding his need and want, and lust and love. Urging him even past the point he was willing to go. No matter how much he might want to, he couldn’t escape her, or this moment.
Goddammit, but she would take everything.
He plunged his hips, burying himself deep, but it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. Again and again, he withdrew and returned home, driven by the will to make her his. For that’s what she was—his. As he was hers, whether he wanted to be or not. Whether he deserved to be or not.
And no matter what happened to them in the coming days, that fact would forever remain. They belonged to each other.
She clamped her arms and legs tight around him. Their ragged breaths filled the alcove along with the soft, slippery sound of their bodies joining. When her sex contracted around him and she cried out with her climax, her ecstasy appeared as fierce and bright as the burning sun.
Her blue eyes filled with an unbearable softness when she gazed up at him while he throbbed inside her. She touched the side of his face and lifted her knees.
A guttural groan ripped from him and he came, emptying his soul into her with his release.
Beneath his ear, her racing heart slowed while the thread of chaos continued unraveling inside him.
With a lingering kiss that spoke of things left unsaid, he climbed unsteadily to his feet. “I’m going to dive in the lake. You want to come?”
“I’ll join you in a bit.” She looked as shaken as he felt.
In the cool water, he dove headfirst into a wave, wanting to wash away the sudden turmoil in his mind. He’d never experienced sex like that before, so carnal and honest.
But it was only sex, he reminded himself.
He was out of practice. He’d been isolated so long, keeping himself away from others, that he didn’t know how to handle it now that he’d gotten intimate with someone else.
It wasn’t a big deal. She was his friend’s sister, a consenting adult, and they were slaking each other’s needs for a while. So what if he liked her? A lot. The sex was better that way, and damn, the sex was good.
But only because it’d been so long since he’d been with a woman, any woman, let alone one as pretty and as fiery as Prue was. And sweet.
Lust was a powerful drug.
Though his lust didn’t explain the sudden urgent need that overcame him to figure out who had tried to hurt her and put an end to them.
As he walked up the beach toward the house, his mind turned to his top priority—her safety—and away from all the ways that existed to bring about her next orgasm.
When he returned to the patio, she’d dressed in her swimsuit and was reclined in a beach chair.
Bending over, he plucked a kiss from her hot mouth, then filched his cell phone from the table. “I think I know someone who might be able to help us figure out what this network of criminals is up to.”
She straightened in the chair. “Who?”
“Just an old BRC buddy.”
“What’s BRC?”
Scrolling through his contact list, he waved a hand distractedly. “It’s a Marine training course.”
“So he’s a Marine, too?” she asked, a frown in her voice. “How is he going to help?”
“Claymore is a different sort of cat than most, but he knows his shit and is well-connected. It’s probably a long shot, but I just want to see what he knows, or can find out, if anything.”
“Claymore? Is that his name?”
“It’s a nickname.” Leo found the number and selected it. “After the Scottish broadsword. Double-edged and lethal as fuck when wielded by someone who knows its power.”
His words failed to bring a smile to her face. He sent the call and pressed the phone to his ear.
Looking up, he found she hovered at the patio door to her bedroom. With a tilt of his head, he waited, but she didn’t speak. Instead she watched him with large, lucid eyes, a concerned frown puckering the spot above her brow.
When she caught his questioning gaze, a weak smile flitted across her face, but then she turned her face away. He almost didn’t catch that her smile crumpled when she stepped through the screen door and closed it softly shut behind her.
The phone ringing in his ear, his mind searched for clues to her reaction.
Then she reached behind her and unfastened the strap to her swimsuit. His thoughts scrambled when the fabric fell away from her body. His cock jerked. There was no way he could go again, but damn, he wished he could. He craved her like a junkie craved his chosen vice, or an alcoholic his spirits.
