by Olson, Mal
“Yes?” Fire sparked in her eyes, and the outlines of her nipples pressed clearly visible through the fabric of her dress.
A particularly sexy lick of smooth jazz sent testosterone thrumming through his bloodstream.
“Um…” His brain shortwired.
The next instant they were on their feet and in each other’s arms. Had she attacked him? Or had he hauled her into his embrace? All he knew was how good her generous curves felt pressed against his chest and how right the pounding of her heart felt against his.
And thank God, she was safe and in one piece.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
His arms filled with trouble, Blade felt the zone south of his belt spring to life. His common sense suddenly hopped a fast train to disaster. It seemed like forever since he’d tasted her. Eons since they’d shared the explosive kiss the night of Skip’s banquet.
Shit. Skip Coogan.
Who invited him?
But nagging as the thought was, it reminded Blade about the discussion he’d intended to have. About Skip. Tonight.
Brandy shifted in his arms.
“Ummm… Blade…”
Through the thin fabric of her dress, her nipples hardened against his chest. The train went rogue, turned runaway.
The hell with conversation. The front, side, and middle of his brain, as well as every inch of his body, instantly became fully engaged with the woman murmuring in his ear. Her tongue danced with his. Her hands slid along his biceps, reached up, played across the back of his neck. Tangled in his hair. God help him.
His fingers roamed across the sweet curve of her butt. When she lifted on tiptoe, he cupped her ass and boosted her up until her legs wound around his waist.
“That’s better,” he whispered, mentally cursing the maddening barrier of clothes that separated his skin from hers. “But what about your bruised ribs? I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Don’t worry. I took meds before dinner, and I can assure you I’m feeling no pain.” She kissed his neck.
Getting horizontal rose to the top of his priority list. There was a big old soft bed just up the stairs, the stairs that seemed a million miles away. Seemed like two million miles when she slicked her hands down his pecs and ripped open the buttons of his shirt.
“Better.” She grinned and ran her tongue across his upper lip.
With her legs still clamped around his waist, she leaned into him and licked a slow, wet path down the center of his now exposed chest, zapping any remote prospect of reaching the bedroom.
Blade dropped to his knees on floor.
One of the straps on her sassy sundress spilled over her shoulder. He took the narrow band between his teeth and tugged until one tantalizing, budded nipple peeked out from her dress. He admired it with the tip of his tongue while guiding her backward, following her onto the floor.
Positioning her between his knees, he gently locked her hands above her head and went back to tasting, running his tongue across the tight bud. Then, using his teeth again, he tugged at the top edge of her dress.
“Zipper,” she breathed on a moan and raised her torso a few inches so he could reach around and find the tab.
He released her hands and worked his fingers along her spine, unzipping, one vertebra at a time. Sliding the dress to her waist, he feasted his eyes on her breasts. Desire, hot and molten, surged through him. “God, you are so beautiful.”
“Said the Greek god to the peasant girl.” She raked her gaze across his chest. Her hands moved to his head and threaded through his hair. She pulled him closer.
He dipped his head and explored the perfection of her breasts with his tongue, his lips, his teeth. He quivered. How could he possibly be suffering from icy shivers when he was so hot?
“Yes.” Her whisper lingered in his head. She tugged him closer still, molding their torsos together.
“You’re asking for trouble, darlin’,” he mumbled against the silky smooth skin of her cheek.
“Looks like I came to the right place.”
When he raised his head slightly to look into her eyes, she sank her teeth playfully into the flesh between his neck and collarbone. The pleasure pumping through his system pooled front and center, and a growl rumbled in his throat.
He covered her mouth with his, drank her in, deepened the kiss, taking possession, losing himself in the taste of her. He soaked in her heat. Breathed the scent of her hair, reveling in the sound of her whimpers of satisfaction. He couldn’t get enough of her.
But he kept trying.
She wriggled, making space between them to slide her hand down his chest. Across his abdomen. To the ridge of heat that swelled against his zipper.
He groaned. He would have, should have, at one point maybe could have, helped her with the clasp on his pants, but presently he was sidetracked with sliding her dress the rest of the way down. Over her hips, her legs. Peachy smooth skin glided beneath his fingers. Seeking out every warm inch he could reach, he stumbled upon lace panties. Slid them away.
He kept on kissing her. Long, soul–deep kisses, the kind he’d dreamt about since that very first moment her determined eyes had pinned him in the sights of her rifle.
The lights flickered.
Outside, Rambo barked once.
Blade groaned. “I think he’s taking the chaperone role way too seriously.”
Brandy smiled. “He’s probably lonesome.”
“He’ll have to wait.”
A couple more yips sounded.
But inside, Brandy continued to drive Blade insane as she worked his zipper down, her warm, inquisitive hands lightly, tentatively skimming his hardness through the fabric of his briefs, fabric that separated her fingertips and his on–fire skin.
Mercifully, she whisked away the last barrier between them and shoved his clothes aside.
“Oh, wow. For me?” she asked, raising on one elbow, blatantly surveying his painfully hard erection.
“All yours.”
With one finger, she touched.
A sharp breath escaped his lips. Studying her face, he got lost in the perfection of her mouth. Pink rose petals glossed by dewdrops. She smiled and coaxed him to the floor beside her, then pressed the petals to his chest. Slid them down his body. Took him in her mouth.
Jaws clenched, Blade spiraled on an ebb of pleasure and fought for control. Jesus, God. He gasped and filled his hands with her curls as his heart brimmed with some sweetly wicked, unbearably delicious torture.
Groaning, he nudged her head upward. “Any more of that and it’ll be all over. And no way am I taking this whitewater ride without you.” He tried to steady his racing heart. “I want you, Brandy. So damn bad. I need to be inside you. Now.”
“Then take me… take me with you, Blade.”
“Are you sure I won’t hurt you? Your ribs—”
In one swift move, she sealed her lips over his, pushed him backward, and followed him down. He moved her knees up along his hips and savored her heat as the core of her womanhood nudged against him.
She hummed in his ear. “I’ve been thinking about this since… forever.”
“You’re not the only—”
“Wait!” Her head jerked up.
“Oh God, I’m sorry. Did I—”
“Don’t be sorry unless you haven’t got any condoms.”
“Oh… yeah…” Shoot, he wasn’t that far gone that he would have forgotten to use protection. Was he? “I was getting to that.” Inching his fingers toward his discarded jeans, he maneuvered until he snagged them and dug in the pocket for his wallet.
He retrieved and unwrapped the foil package.
She snatched the condom.
Trying to help, yes, he knew she was trying to help, when she struggled with the latex, but her touch almost brought him to the point of no return.
In the hazy distance, Rambo yelped. Again.
Not now, partner.
Blade lowered Brandy onto her back. He needed to be in control. Yeah, right, he was so mu
ch in control. But this was the first time with precious, incredible Brandy. It had to be… everything he could make it be. Perfect. He lowered himself, gently taking her, one delicious, excruciating inch at a time.
Her eyes closed, and she made some kind of a kitten sound.
“Oh, baby, I hope you’re burning for me the way I am for you.”
“If things get any hotter, the fire department’s going to show up.” Her laugh escaped on a sigh.
He would have joined in the laughter, but it would have stolen too much concentration from what he was doing. Making love to the most amazing woman in the world.
Caressing her cheeks, he fell heart–deep into ecstasy. Her mouth opened to him. He slid his tongue inside, then matched the rhythm of her hips with his. He delved deeper. Her inner muscles clenched around him. Still, he couldn’t get enough of her. And that scared him. Not enough to stop what he was doing, but enough to give him pause, mentally.
Getting close to Brandy will make you want things you can’t have.
She pushed upward, taking him deeper still. He’d never felt more bonded with anyone.
Dreams didn’t get any better.
Oh, but they did when she arched her back and gave herself totally. So vulnerable. So trusting. Her surrender made his gut wrench. This emotionally fragile woman was giving herself to him. Completely. It touched a place inside he’d thought was a lonely deserted cavern.
Tendre Amour seeped into his pores.
Soft curves and damp skin moved beneath his touch.
A throaty saxophone wailed.
She convulsed around him, joined as completely as they could possibly be. They moved in harmony, suspended in time, immersed in exquisite pleasure…
Hope… dream… pleasure… pain… oblivion… joy… delight… bliss… oh God…With one last push, Blade lost himself in Brandy Wilcox, and he came with a force that tipped the whole damn world cock–eyed.
“Brandy.” The word rushed out, a growl and a prayer as he fell gently on her, burying his face in a mass of curls, overwhelming contentment saturating every cell of his body. This woman would haunt him forever.
She whispered in his ear, “I knew it would be like this, Beringer… the wildest ride I ever had.”
He rolled onto his back, bringing her with him. She whimpered.
Jesus, she whimpered.
Cringing, he said, “Aw, hell. Brandy, honey, your ribs must be killing you. I’m so sorry. Jeez, I hope I didn’t hurt you.”
I’ve never felt better in my life.”
“Are you sure?” He moved her alongside him on the floor, then placed his mouth against the delicate skin beneath her breasts and trailed soft butterfly kisses down her torso. “So… so… sorry.”
Except for an ache beneath his rib cage, which had nothing to do with the accident, Blade sure wasn’t feeling any pain either. He was feeling entirely, too remarkably, awesome. He heaved a sigh and sat, gently scooping her onto his lap. Bringing her against his chest, he held her as though she were his.
The lights flickered again.
Then complete darkness wrapped around them.
And stayed.
Rambo’s barks progressed from intermittent to continuous.
Blade’s sixth sense kicked in. Every muscle in his body tensed as the Brandy–hot blood humming through his veins froze.
He’d let down his guard.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
A chill raced down Brandy’s spine when Blade’s entire body turned to the edgy steel of a warrior beneath her hands. With blackness surrounding her, she became aware of Rambo’s insistent barking and Blade’s switch to commando mode. In one stealth move, he shot up and shoved into his jeans.
With her nerve–endings sizzling, the sense of impending danger put her on edge. Still, there was nowhere she’d rather be than with Blade.
“What?” she asked.
“It’s probably nothing. You know how common power outages are around here.”
Sure. That’s why, mere seconds after he’d shattered inside her, after he’d demolished her with a white–hot orgasm, he’d jumped to his feet. Right. It was nothing.
“It’s probably just Rambo feeling left out.”
She sat up and latched onto her dress, holding it to her chest. Blade grabbed his holster from the back of a chair and pulled out the Glock.
“I’ll go set him straight on the chaperone business.”
“With a gun?”
He rolled his eyes. “I’ll do a quick look around just to make sure.” He came to her, leaned down, and kissed her, a promise on his lips. “Rambo’s going to have to tough it out alone for awhile yet.”
Halfway to the door, he turned and said, “Brandy, play it safe. Stay down and away from the windows.”
She nodded, remembering exactly where her pistol lay in her pink bag upstairs in the guest room. She started to pull on her dress.
“This is probably just the ingrained cop in me,” he said, gesturing with the Glock. “The electrical system around here is crazy. More than likely, I’m over–reacting.” He smiled. “Like I said, it’s probably nothing.”
“Sure.”
“Don’t move. Because we’re just getting started.”
“I like the way you think.” She smiled.
He crept to the door, jammed his feet into his cowboy boots, and silently eased into the darkness.
Brandy’s heart thumped. Goose bumps rippled down her arms. Because of the could–be prowler? Or were her nerves on edge because of the mind–bending sex they’d indulged in?
All senses alert, straining for the sound of Blade checking things out, she ignored the erotic sensations zinging through her, and focused on possible danger—a possible Neo Nazi attack. Blood zinged through her veins. Blade shouldn’t be out there without backup. Her heart throbbed and her stomach twittered.
When she heard him exchanging greetings with Rambo, her tension eased. At least part of the tension eased. Still riding an emotional roller–coaster, she tried to tell herself she wasn’t getting in too deep.
Too close.
Exhaling, she argued, no, they’d simply had good sex. Okay, it was out–of–this–world sex. Why couldn’t she simply enjoy it?
She eased back and pressed her spine to the floor and replayed their love–making in her mind. Blade’s voice drifted in. He and Rambo were still having a heart–to–heart.
A couple of minutes later, a thud banged against the house. Her euphoria gusted away like debris on the front edge of a tornado. Every nerve in her body coiled as she lurched to her knees and wriggled the rest of the way into her dress. Waxy smoke from the only source of light, the votive candle, scented the air as it sputtered, nearly burning out.
A power outage. Rambo barking. A bump in the night.
Her glance traveled the dim room, searching for something, anything, to use as a weapon.
Simmer down, Deputy. Dogs bark for lots of reasons, and blackouts happened at the drop of a Stetson in the valley. However, bumps in the night, not so much. She raced upstairs and dug out her pistol.
Just as she returned to the kitchen, the refrigerator motor hummed to life, and the DVD player’s green display started blinking.
The doorknob turned.
Pulse ticking in her throat, she gripped her pistol, just in case, and scooted backward and against the wall.
Blade slipped in. Even though she clearly recognized him, her erratic heartbeat continued to hammer. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, like I said, I haven’t figured out the intricacies of the electrical system around here yet.” With lithe strides, he moved to her side and worked the gun from her hand.
“It’s okay, Brandy. No one’s going to attack you except me.” His arms came around her, and she relaxed. Melted into him.
Lord help her, she wanted to love him all over again. Wanted to see the need on his face. Desperately wanted to feel his corded muscles wrapped around her as he came apart in her arms—again.
&nb
sp; He brought his mouth to hers in a sweet, leisurely, unlike–Blade kiss, then lifted her in his arms. The lip lock lasted all the way up the stairs. As though he couldn’t get enough of her, he kept kissing her, drinking her in. He carried her into his luxurious contender for spa–of–the–year. He lowered her until her feet sank into the fluffy bath mat. Still, his mouth and tongue tasted, explored. Kissed.
Maybe it was she who refused to let him go when he knelt, bringing her with him, knees on the rug. He reached blindly for the faucet. Just as water began to flow, Rambo started to bark again.
Blade moaned against her mouth. “This is not like Rambo.”
“Maybe you should bring him inside.”
“I’m… kind of busy right now.”
“Go. It’ll only take a minute, and then you can concentrate on more important things. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Promise?”
“Do I look like a crazy woman?”
He grinned and broke free, stood up, and inched away. His reluctance to leave made her heart trill. The wicked–as–sin–sweet–as–honey smile that curved his lips as he backed out of the room guaranteed she’d stay glued to the spot. That smile was a sure ticket to a woman’s bed, maybe a ticket to this woman’s heart.
With Blade out of sight, an edginess crept over Brandy. Suddenly alone. Why should that bother her? She was always alone, even when she was with someone. Never, since she was fourteen and Jeremy the Teen–aged Casanova had taken off without a word, had she felt this kind of emptiness. Loneliness.
From that day forward, she’d never allowed herself to connect with anyone. With good reason. She didn’t like the out–of–control, hollow thump she felt in her chest. Or the longing for something that couldn’t be.
She concentrated on the water pouring from the shell–shaped fixture near the ceiling and watched it plunge like a waterfall into the huge oval tub.
Minutes later, Blade’s voice rose from the lower level, conversing in German with Rambo. At the sound of his feet treading softly on the stairs, warmth shimmied down her arms, and shivers of excitement rippled down her spine.
He edged into the bathroom carrying two mismatched glasses and set them on the tiled edge of the tub. “Hey, I brought you something to drink. Sparkling grape juice.”
