She sat there, her body stiff, almost as if she expected him to pinch her or smack her over the head with a pillow. He supposed he deserved her wariness, considering he’d worked hard over the past two years to keep her at a distance.
That wasn’t going to work tonight.
Leaning forward, Asher wrapped his arm around her waist and hauled her back farther. She gasped, the sound of it shooting through him as surely as any bullet could have.
His entire body responded. The need for her throbbed at every pulse point in his body, a drum beat that reverberated through his head, urging him into action.
Settling her between his open thighs, Asher let his hands rest on the curve of her shoulders. She was stiff beneath his hold, but he wasn’t sure if that was because her shoulder ached or because he had his hands on her.
“Where does it hurt?”
Kennedy leaned her head to the left, her hair sliding sideways and exposing her neck. “Right here.” Her hand brushed from the base of her neck up over her shoulder.
Digging his thumb into the spot, Asher quickly found the knot in her muscle and rubbed.
She groaned but didn’t pull away from his hands. He’d had enough injuries to understand why she whimpered whenever he hit a particular spot. The phrase hurt so good came to mind.
After a few minutes her muscles began to relax, eventually going warm and loose beneath his hands. He probably could have stopped, but he didn’t. Her skin was so smooth and soft. It felt like silk against his fingers. And he couldn’t quite resist the way her body melted. Her spine curved a bit. Her hips settled farther back against him.
As the quiet minutes ticked by, the space between them dwindled. He liked the way Kennedy was letting him take her weight, her lithe little body gradually collapsing against his chest. He knew relying on someone else wasn’t normal for her.
She was strong and smart. Wore her efficiency like a medal around her neck and reveled in her competence and independence. He could just imagine her as a little girl, chasing after her big brother and insisting she could do anything he and his friends were doing, despite being seven years younger than the rest of them.
There were times when it was easy to forget that he was nine years older than she was. But moments like this made that difference glaring...because it was just one more reason he shouldn’t want her.
Her life was just beginning, while he’d already seen the world, and been disappointed by most of it.
His hands swept down her back, moving far from their initial purpose. Over her hips. Up her arms. His fingertips skimmed her throat and across her collarbones.
He couldn’t help himself. Especially when Kennedy arched into his caress, her breath catching in a throaty little sound that made his pulse thrum and his cock go rock hard.
There was no mistaking his response to her. Not with her rear settled right against the obvious ridge.
She squirmed, the curve of her ass torturing him in new and delightful ways.
“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice gruff.
Twisting her head, she stared up at him out of those delicious whiskey eyes. Heat rolled through him, matching the blaze of honeyed need he recognized in hers.
Kennedy shook her head, a denial that was probably too late for either of them to heed. Asher placed his hands on her hips, ready to push her away and do the right thing. He was playing with fire here. This wasn’t going to end well for either of them.
But before he could follow through, she moved up, threaded her fingers into his hair and dragged his head down to hers. Her mouth sealed to his, hard and insistent. Unyielding. Fighting for control of the moment.
If any other woman had kissed him that way he probably would have walked away. He liked being in control, needed it to feel comfortable and in charge of the situation. There was nothing comfortable about what he felt for Kennedy. Nothing easy.
This was all kinds of messed up. Jackson was going to kill him if he ever found out. But Asher couldn’t seem to muster up the will to care. Not right now anyway.
He’d fantasized about Kennedy’s mouth for a long time—deep kisses, teasing and soft licks of her tongue, those dark pink lips stretched around his hard...
A groan rolled up from deep inside his chest. Shit, he thought, right before giving in.
Bracketing her face with his palms, he pulled her closer. He needed a deeper taste. If he was doing this, he was damn well doing it right.
Angling her head, he licked at her lips, enjoying the way she opened for him, eager for whatever came next.
“Goddammit,” he whispered right before diving inside the moist heat of her mouth.
The moment swirled around them. The scent of her enveloped him. She tasted sweet and forbidden. Like the most decadent dessert. The kind of thing you were only supposed to indulge in once in a while but always craved.
Kennedy wasn’t the kind of woman to sit idly and let a man take over. Even as he maneuvered her head, she was shifting her body. Crawling into his lap without losing their connection. Taking just as much as giving.
Her tongue tangled with his, matching him stroke for stroke. Her hands wandered over his shoulders, flipping the buttons on his shirt until she could find bare skin.
A hungry little sound rolled through her throat.
Asher drank it up, keeping it all for himself.
Spreading her thighs, she settled her hips right over him, grinding down on his already throbbing erection.
Her hands raced across his skin, touching, teasing, driving him insane. With a gentle yank, she shoved his shirt down his arms to pool on the bed beside them.
Everything was a red haze, clouding out reality and any scrap of decency he’d been trying to cling to. His only thought was to finally have what he wanted. Her.
His fingers slipped beneath the hem of her shirt, pulling it off over her head and throwing it across the room, uncaring where it might land.
Pulling back, Asher let his gaze roam down her exposed body. Her bra was beige, but there was nothing plain about the way it cupped her breasts, pushing them high enough to make his mouth water. He could see the tight pink centers begging for attention through the thin fabric.
Leaning down, he sucked one deep into his mouth, relishing the soft cry of pleasure that fell from her parted lips.
Her fingers tightened where she gripped his shoulders. Her hips bucked as he lightly scraped his teeth across the distended nipple.
He could feel the heat of her as she rocked against him, searching for a relief he needed just as much. Reaching between them, he found the wet heat of her desire soaking through the thin barrier of her shorts, driving him mad.
He rubbed. She gasped, energy crackling between them.
God, he needed more of her.
His hands played across her back, stroking her soft skin. She was so warm.
His fingers pulled at the clasp of her bra, intent on freeing her so he could taste more.
But before he could undo the little hooks, her hands slammed down over his arms, pinning them to her sides. “Stop,” she said, panting.
Immediately, Asher stilled. He was a lot of things, and not all of them good, but one thing he’d never do was push a woman past the point she was comfortable.
Kennedy shifted back on his lap, rolling against his pounding erection and pulling out a ragged groan.
Asher shut his eyes, searching for his good intentions. And waited for her to climb off him, but she didn’t.
Her fingers stayed wrapped around his biceps. His pinky brushed against the soft skin at her waist. Her moist breath puffed against his throat.
Was she torturing him on purpose?
“Seriously, Kennedy. I only have so much willpower. You need to get up.”
When she still didn’t move after several seconds, Asher opened his eyes only to find her staring at him. Her gaze was enigmatic and way too thoughtful. How did she have brain cells still functioning? He felt as if his were ready to explode right a
long with the rest of his body.
“That wasn’t what I meant,” she said.
What the hell was she talking about? “I’m pretty sure there’s only one meaning for stop. Especially when a man has his tongue and hands all over a half-naked woman.”
Her lips twisted into that smart-ass grin that drove him completely nuts.
“You know what? Every time I see that chivalrous streak you seem to prefer to hide, I’m always surprised. But I shouldn’t be by now.”
“I don’t take advantage of women. I don’t have to.”
Something dark twisted through her gaze. “Of course not. Not when they throw themselves at you.”
“That has nothing to do with it.”
“Sure it does.”
Asher wrapped his hands around her hips and lifted Kennedy off his lap, depositing her onto the bed beside him. He moved to leave, but she grasped his arm.
“Seriously, Asher. I told you to stop because the camera is still rolling.”
He glanced over to the corner of the room where the lens silently watched them. Immersed in Kennedy, he’d completely forgotten it was there, recording every passionate kiss, erotic sigh and demanding touch.
Thank God she hadn’t, because the last thing he wanted was for some cameraman to get an eye full of naked Kennedy.
Suddenly, an overprotective and possessive wave swept through him, heating his skin and tightening every muscle in his body.
“No, that wouldn’t be good.”
The smirk on her face went a little more dangerous. She considered him, tilting her head to the side. “I’ll erase the footage before giving the camera back to Neil.”
“Who the hell is Neil? And you damn well better. Haven’t you had enough brushes with public indecency?”
She flinched at his words. Asher immediately regretted them, but there was no way to take them back.
“I’m sorry,” he forced out between stiff lips. Just minutes ago they’d been warm and wet beneath Kennedy’s mouth. He wanted that back, even if, now that he was out from under the haze of lust, his sanity was returning.
Bounding up from the bed, Kennedy shot him a tight look, scooped her shirt from the floor and pulled it back over her head. Then she moved to the camera, hitting a button.
Turning to face him, she crossed her arms beneath her breasts, tilted her head to the side and studied him in a way that left him feeling exposed and edgy.
“I think maybe we’ve figured out the key to suppressing your stutter.”
“Oh, yeah, what’s that?”
She walked slowly toward him. Her hips swayed, drawing his gaze. The woman was brilliantly sexy. Too sexy for her own good.
Asher licked his lips. The decadent taste of her still clung there, flooding his mouth. He wanted to kiss her again, over and over.
“Sex.”
Asher blinked. “Excuse me?”
“You haven’t stuttered once since this—” she wagged a finger between them “—started.”
He stared at her, realizing that she was right. When he’d first started talking, his throat had been tight, his chest aching with the certainty that he wouldn’t be able to do this. And he’d stuttered, not much, but a little.
Then she’d started talking back, sharing tiny pieces of herself with him, and he’d put his hands on her. From that moment on, getting more of her had been all he could think about. Obviously not the camera recording in the corner.
And he hadn’t stuttered once.
* * *
BLOODY HELL.
Asher rubbed his hands up and down his face, trying to wipe away the past several hours.
He’d walked out of Kennedy’s room, his body revving like a stock-car engine, high-octane need at two hundred miles per hour. His mind was spinning nearly as quickly.
It wasn’t as if this would be his first sleepless night. It wasn’t even his first sleepless night over a woman. But it was the first in a hell of a long time. Damn her for changing everything with a few kisses and tantalizing words.
When she’d despised him, it had been easier to suppress his desire for her. But now that he’d seen how her body responded to him...
Across the room, his cell phone buzzed, vibrating against the top of the dresser.
It was after midnight. There were only a handful of people who’d call him this late.
Crossing the room, Asher snatched up the phone and nearly groaned when he read the display screen.
Jackson Duchane was the last person he needed to talk to right now. Guilt and dread twisted his gut. Had he found out what had happened?
There was no way, not when Asher had just left Kennedy’s room not twenty minutes ago. But that was immediately where his head went. How bad things would go if Jackson found out he’d touched his little sister.
A bitter taste flooded his mouth. Jackson, Knox and the team they’d built at Trident were all he had. They were his family. Had been from the moment they’d all been assigned to the same team.
But there was no question in his mind, should Jackson be forced to choose between him and Kennedy, his sister would win. As she should.
Just one more reason he needed to keep his hands off Kennedy.
“Reynolds,” he said, pressing the cell to his ear.
“Hey, man. Sorry to call so late, but it’s been a crazy couple days here. I have a few minutes before we get started today, so I wanted to touch base.”
Asher did a quick calculation in his head, realizing that it was actually early morning where his friend was, about seven hours ahead of their location in the Caribbean.
“It’s fine. I was still awake.”
“I figured you might be. How’d the first day go? I know you weren’t enthusiastic about taking on this project. Thanks, man, for doing it anyway.”
Shit, the guilt nearly choked him.
“It went fine.” Even Asher could hear the lie in his own words. Maybe his friend wouldn’t notice.
The pause at the other end of the line suggested that was some serious wishful thinking.
“You sure?” Jackson finally asked.
Asher sighed, the sound of it echoing down the line and reverberating back to him. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
“Kennedy giving you shit?”
He really didn’t want to talk about Kennedy with her older brother right now. “No more than usual. You know how we are.”
Jackson made a sound, a harsh, strangled laugh. “Maybe being forced to work together will be good for both of you. I just don’t understand the animosity between you.”
If he knew what had happened tonight, Jackson wouldn’t think his little sister being with Asher on the Amphitrite for the next two weeks was a good idea. But it was a little late for that.
“One of these days you’re going to have to explain it to me, man.”
“I already have.” Or he’d tried, without revealing Kennedy’s secret, his insistent attraction to the man’s sister or the way his body reacted whenever she was close. He had this aversion to getting his ass kicked and avoided it whenever possible.
“Not to my satisfaction.”
“Tough shit.”
Jackson grunted but, thank the good lord, changed the subject. “How’s the production crew?”
“They tried to dress me in a three-piece suit...with a bow tie.”
The loud burst of laughter made some of the heaviness in Asher’s chest disappear. Part of him wanted to reach through the phone and smack Jackson in the back of the head, which was exactly what he would have done if they’d been in the same room. The rest of him simply smiled at the sound of his friend’s laughter.
That’s what friends were for, after all. Jackson had his back, one hundred and ten percent of the time. The man had saved his life on more than one occasion, and Asher had taken a bullet for him. The battlefield bonded you in ways everyday life just couldn’t.
Besides, he could give as good as he got and had laughed his ass off plenty at Jackson’s expense when
his friend had first gotten together with Loralei.
“Thanks,” he said, sarcasm leaking through the single word. “Your sympathy is overwhelming.”
“I’m sorry. I just...the visual is too much.”
“Then you’d have loved the chick who kept popping up out of nowhere to brush powder across my face.”
“Makeup? They have you wearing makeup?”
Asher grunted, trying to block out the memories. Who would have thought brushes and tiny pots of colored powder could masquerade as torture devices?
“Please, tell me there are pictures of that.”
He damn well hoped not. That was the last thing he needed. His man card was already in jeopardy as it was.
“Not a snowball’s chance in hell.”
A smile tugged at his lips. This was exactly what he’d needed, a conversation with his friend to set him back on even ground.
And remind him why touching Kennedy was a bad, bad idea. There was too much at stake and not even an amazing night with her was worth losing everything that mattered to him. And he wasn’t naive enough to think starting something with her could end any other way...no woman in his life ever stuck.
Asher heard a soft, feminine voice in the background on Jackson’s end. “Tell Loralei I said hi, and to give you shit.”
“I’ll tell her the first part. She’s got the second handled just fine without your prompting. Listen, man, I have to go. Things are moving quickly here.”
That was good news. Locating the Chimera had gained Trident some exposure, but this new find could cement their position within the salvage industry.
After this documentary aired, their visibility would increase even more. The ultimate goal was to be able to focus full-time on treasure and historical salvages and let the commercial diving side of their business, which was the only thing keeping them afloat right now, gradually fade away.
Which meant, somehow, someway, he needed to get through this documentary. This was his opportunity to contribute.
“Thanks, man. Seriously. I know doing this documentary isn’t your idea of a good time. I appreciate you taking one for the team.”
His resolve cemented as Jackson hung up.
Asher flopped onto the bed, arms and legs spread wide.
Under Pressure Page 6
