Rory ignored him and focused on Ember. “Listen. I’m sorry I had to leave that night without talking to you first. My babysitter called. She’d just taken Tyler to the emergency room with a bad case of pneumonia. He was in the hospital nearly a week. Iʼm sorry I didn’t call you sooner but I was worried sick for Tyler. I couldn’t think of anything else. When I finally took him home, he had a relapse. It’s been a heck of a week, but he’s doing better. We made cookies. We left you a big plateful along with some flowers and a note. Didn’t you get them?”
Both she and he turned to glare at Larry. “Did I get any flowers or cookies?” she asked pointedly. It deflected a small fraction of Rory’s intensity. Kind of.
Larry staggered back a step, pointing his beer around the room like it was a moving target. “Yeah, there’s some stuff for you over there... somewhere. Hmm. That crap was here a minute ago.”
“Who is that jerk?” Rory growled, but he didn’t wait for an answer. She no more than opened her lips to explain when he cupped the back of her head, pulled her to his mouth and kissed her hard.
She protested (really, she did), but he didn’t back off like a gentleman would’ve. The floor tilted beneath her feet. The room spun. Her resistance failed. She needed something, or someone, to hold onto. Besides, her lips were responding to that mouth of his, and that smell, that just bathed, clean Rory smell. Her nostrils flared, sucking it into her heart. Her soul. Her entire body leaned into him, her tongue to his mouth, her breasts to his chest, her thighs to his… Oh wow. He’s solid. Everywhere.
Damn. She wanted him physically. Right now. Even in the middle of their first real fight. Make-up sex with this guy would be so incredible. The more his lips demanded, the weaker her knees became. Her fingers clutched his strong biceps for support and—
“Oh, man, do her!” Larry howled. “Go on! Do her! She needs a good screw! Let her have it. She’s been a bitch since—”
In the blink of an eye, Rory knocked Larry into the next room and up against the front door. The beer can flew to who knew where. Rory’s fist curled beneath Larry’s chin, the promise of death in his voice. “You ever talk to my woman like that again, and so help me, I’ll knock your dumb ass all the way to China. You hear me? You’re not welcome here. Neither’s your pot or whatever else you’re using. I find it, I’m flushing it. Get the hell out of here before I call the police.” Not waiting for an answer, he pushed Larry backward into the hall, slammed the door and locked it. Turning to her, he growled, “Who is that jerk?”
“Umm, my brother.” But all she’d heard was—my woman? Wow.
“Your brother?” Immediately, both hands raked over his hair. “I’m sorry, but I—”
“I’m not. Thanks. I mean, really, I hate it when he’s here. He smokes weed while I’m at work, and he won’t leave when I tell him to, and—”
“He isn’t welcome here, do you hear me? He’s an addict. He stays away from you from now on.” Demanding eyes challenged her to argue.
The reverberations of her out of control heartbeat had turned her brain to Nothing. But. Mush. But it’s my apartment. But he’s my brother. But—you’re right. I was going to kick him out today anyway. And you’re so hot when you’re angry. “Okay,” she softly acquiesced.
Rory strode across the floor and pushed her against the wall, or maybe it was the refrigerator, or whatever. It was solid, and she needed something solid behind her because she was falling into those dark eyes and.... Black lipstick is so not his color.
“Wait. Let me wipe your, mmm—”
He didn’t wait. His mouth was on hers again, demanding more. His hips pinned her to whatever stood behind her, and the world fell away. All that existed was his mouth on hers, his hands moving purposefully down her body like he already owned everything he touched. The tactile assault left her weak. Compliant. Hungry.
When his fingers made it down far enough, he gripped a handful of her ass, and she forgot how to breathe. That was what she’d wanted for weeks. No, needed. No, craved. Every molecule in her system seemed starved for his touch. She was caught up in that hurricane again, and it was called Rory. Yes, please. Oh, yes. Yes. Yes.
“I’m only asking you one time.” His breath hot and heavy in her face, all she saw was the stormiest eyes beneath elegant brows now narrowed to a demanding angry V. Could he get any more glorious? Even the black lipstick staining his mouth added to his ferocity. He was alpha. The dominant male. And he meant her to know it. “Neither of us is on a mission right now. We are not at work. The rules of our job do not dictate our decisions. You’re just Ember, and I’m just me. Do I leave or do I stay?”
The sexiest smoldering gaze scorched her. His fingers and hands weren’t doing too bad, either, not gripping her backside like they were. Waves of raw male energy disintegrated any notion of retreat or resistance. He couldn’t possibly stand any closer unless their clothing disintegrated in the flames engulfing her. Her body arched, automatically sealing itself to him.
“Stay,” she whispered meekly. Wow, do I want you to stay.
He relaxed and leaned in for another kiss. She raised her lips to meet his, but he stopped short, staring at the space beside her head. A bemused smile twitched the corners of his black lipstick-stained mouth. “You saved them?” he asked incredulously.
She glanced over her shoulder to see what held his attention. Arghhh! Linoleum, just swallow me up!
Now he knew for sure what an idiot she was. Stuck on the refrigerator with cute little ladybug magnets was the paper doll family she and Nima had cut out of newspaper. There for all the world to see stood the dark-haired Rory paper doll holding hands with the blonde-haired Ember doll and a blue-eyed little Nima doll between them. And dangling off a piece of red ribbon was the damned pinecone he’d given her.
“It’s all I had left and I... I couldn’t throw them away. I couldn’t lose that, too,” she squeaked out the pitiful explanation.
The tender look on his face melted her heart. He leaned in to kiss her.
“But wait!” In a fleeting half-second of clarity, she ducked out from his arms, grabbed his hand and pulled him into the bathroom. He eyed her extra-large and comfortable bathtub, his brows arched in a roguish devil-may-care smirk. And there he was, the playful man she knew.
A smile tugged her lips for the first time in days. “Sit,” she commanded in her most I’m-in-charge voice. It sounded more like milk toast than authority, but he sat obediently on the edge of the tub nonetheless. “Tip your head back.”
“My goodness, you’re bossy,” he said, his voice husky, deep, and so-o-o messing with her head.
She shivered as she gathered cotton pads and makeup remover from her cabinet. You’re so dumb, Ember. He never left you. Ever. He’s not the leaving kind of guy, remember?
“Head back,” she ordered again, trying desperately to maintain what little composure she had left. He complied, leaning backward so she could remove the lipstick from his mouth. But in doing so he pulled her between his knees, his hands comfortably secure on her hips. Like that helped.
The more he complied, the more that alpha male thing seemed to be in control. She could so not concentrate in this position. Everything she loved about him came back into brilliant clarity. His clean-shaven chin and freshly trimmed hairline. Masculine Adam’s apple. Long, black eyelashes that amplified his dark eyes, more black than blue right now. All of her senses itched to touch, smell and drink him in. To taste.
With trembling fingers, she soaked the cotton balls in the gentle astringent and wiped the black lipstick from his mouth and— Oh, those lips. The moment her fingertips made contact, her pulse quickened at the gentle act of service that felt a lot like foreplay. Rory pursed them to the right, then to the left. She concentrated as hard as she could. Shivering from head to toe, she gently cleaned and—oh, hell! The moment his lips were clean, she wanted to mess them up again in the worst way.
Very carefully, so as not to spill the makeup remover on his shirt or jeans, s
he dabbed more lotion onto another clean cotton ball and wiped his mouth a second time. Like there was any lipstick left by then. Every muscle yearned toward him, drawn by a fierce magnetic pull claiming her right down to her toes. His hands rested achingly warm on her hips, his thumbs rubbing the intimate intersection where thigh joined with abdomen. Heated pools of the steamiest obsidian measured her every move. Every glance into those pools left her wanton.
“Are you done with me yet?” he asked, his voice rumbling all the way to the pit of her stomach. Her body clenched. I’ve only just begun, Agent Dennison.
“Yes. I mean, no. I mean....” She gulped. Spit it out!
He stood. With one deft turn, she was the one on the edge of the tub. He took the lotion and cotton out of her hand. “Your turn. Sit still. Head back.”
Now he commanded her—and she liked it. When he eased his knees between hers, she had to hoist her tight leather skirt up to make room for him. It was impossible to sit still, much less breathe with him where he was. She wiggled on the edge of her tub, but it brought no relief to that raging fire in her belly.
“Close your eyes.”
She did, but not being able to see only heightened her other senses. Her nose twitched like an addict needing his scent to live. The temperature of her skin elevated to flash fire.
With two fingers beneath her chin, he tilted her face up. “These are the black lines from your vision,” he said quietly. With the lightest touch he cleansed the oily black from her eyes and lashes. “And these are the prison bars of your vision.” Just as gently he removed the lipstick from her lips, and like an idiot she sat there breathing him in. Basking. Wanting. And oh, so needing.
Ember couldn’t take it anymore. She had to look.
“There will be no more defacing yourself, do you hear me?” His gaze drifted to her neck. “Do I see another mark defiling the body I cherish?”
“Uh, huh,” some sap replied. Wait. That’s me.
“How can you treat yourself like poison when you are light and life to me?” he asked sadly.
He tenderly touched the fresh and still sore skull and crossbones inked at the top of her left breast with the pad of his thumb. Bending, he pressed a gentle kiss to the tattoo, chilling her with the moist heat of his breath. Shivers raced up her neck, causing another bout of butt-tingling wiggles.
“You and I are very much alike, Ember,” he whispered. “You’ve built walls to keep me out, and I’ve built force fields to keep you out. We’ve created avatars; people we’re not so no one can see who we really are. I did it to protect Tyler and my ego. You wanted to scare the world away. We might’ve thought we were keeping ourselves safe from being hurt again, but we were doing something else, too. We weren’t living. Let’s not be afraid to live, Ember. Let’s not lie to each other anymore.”
He pressed his forehead to hers until they were nose to nose, his hands on her shoulders and the saddest light in his eyes. There was no sense trying to talk. She was putty in his hands. Silly Putty.
“I like the amazing, strong woman I see now.” He kissed her forehead while his fingers trailed fire along her neck, but then he tweaked one of the spikes on her head. “But these things could put a man’s eye out.”
She pulled the spiked cap of hair off. Soft blonde layers fell where shiny black had been.
Warm surprise flashed in his eyes. “A wig? Cool. So that’s how you change your hair color all the time. I’ve always wondered how you could change hair color so fast.”
He pulled her up off the tub in one swift armful and turned her to face the mirror above her sink. He stood behind her with one arm around her waist, his other hand combing gently over her head and through her hair. Soft moist nibbles caressed her neck and ear.
Shivering, she closed her eyes at his touch, every nerve in her body electrified at the delightful sensation of his hands. Her toes had surely curled in her leather boots. The rest of her had.
“Open your eyes,” he ordered. Tracing the edge of her ear with his tongue, he softly touched each ring and stud anchored there while he watched her in the mirror. “Hmm. What else do we need to remove?”
No sooner asked than done. As quick as a wink, the gold and silver studs were off her ears and in a jumbled pile next to the sink. Nestling back into his arms, she faced the mirror and his mischievous smile. No more earrings or studs. I’m good with that.
He traced her lips with the tip of his index finger. “Open wide.”
She did as he commanded; content to play the game if it got her what she wanted.
He leaned into her neck, his breath hot and moist on her already sensory-overloaded skin. If he kept this up, she’d explode. His dark eyes didn’t blink from her gaze as he traced her wide-open mouth with just the tip of his finger. “The tongue stud, too, or whatever you call it. I don’t want anything in your mouth but me the next time I kiss you.”
She obediently removed the metal barbell, and without waiting to be asked, she also took the diamond stud from her nostril. Her hands shook. She almost dropped it. When it was on the counter, she backed into him and once more pulled his arms around her. These are small things, Dennison. I can live without all this stuff, but I can’t live without you. The realization hit true. I don’t want to live without you, Rory. Not ever again.
His hands moved slowly over her shoulders and down her arms before coming to rest at her waist. Arghhh. She had to close her eyes just to think straight. His hard body pressing against her backside had already melted all logical connections in her once analytical brain. How could he be so calm when she was ready to scream? She stood overloaded, all circuits charged to the hilt, amped up and ready to pop.
Opening her eyes, she caught his smirking reflection in the mirror again, his arms comfortable around her like he owned her body and soul. Her feet couldn’t seem to hold still, but then, neither could the rest of her. Impatience tinged with a hint of anxiety tiptoed across her shoulders and down her spine. She’d never been treated so tantalizingly kind before. He’d stimulated every last nerve ending in her body, and they were both still dressed. What would happen when she got him out of those jeans? Her toes curled. Hurry it up, Dennison. Body and soul and whatever else—it’s yours—just kiss me.
“Is there anything else I should know about?” he asked seductively.
Oh. My. Gosh. Yes!
She grasped the zipper pull on her cute little hacked-up leather jacket. Before she had a chance to yank it down, he intercepted her hand. “Here. Let me help you.”
She blinked up at him like a total dope. In oh, so slow motion, he pulled the zipper of her very cute leather jacket down tooth-by-tooth, centimeter-by-deliciously seductive centimeter. The man definitely knew how to tease her feminine libido. His eyes locked on hers in the mirror for the next mind-blowing reveal.
At last, her overly endowed cleavage came in to a much fuller view, then the cups of her lacy black bra, and finally, her clenching abdomen. Any fool could see the embossed imprint of her hardened nipples through the thin silk of her bra. Smoldering heat reflected back from the mirror. His frank admiration swept over her reflection, taking in the view of the intimate apparel he’d bought in Chicago. She was wearing the panties, too, only he hadn’t gotten that far yet.
A deep rumble thrummed from right inside him when the diamond stud in her quivering navel sparkled into view. With his heated breath heavy on her neck and his eyes scorching all the way into her soul, it was all she could do to not combust on the spot. Leaning her head back against his shoulder, she nuzzled his cheek and took another deep breath.
Kiss. Me. Damn it.
He shook his head sternly. With just his index finger, he traced a burning ring of fire around her navel. Every muscle clenched all the way to that other, deeper place, now drenched with need and craving to devour him. “This, too, little girl. Take it off. Now.”
Desire seized her core. Somehow, every piece of her anatomy seemed connected by an invisible string he had only to tug to make her
comply. She couldn’t get the belly button ring off fast enough. But then she couldn’t play the game anymore. In a heated rush she turned into him and planted her mouth on his, hungry and demanding at the same time. “Rory!” she mumbled around his lips, frantic to be skin to skin after all this mind-blowing game playing.
The fire stoked hot and out of control. Kissing him only added to the need to be one with this man. This alpha. This incredible sexy lover.
Unzipping her leather skirt without breaking contact with his mouth, she wiggled out of it and the jacket, too, letting them fall to the floor while she maintained the lip lock. He wasn’t the leaving kind of guy. She got that now. Well, that was a damned good thing, because she had plans for every inch of him, plans that couldn’t wait.
So what if she stood there in nothing but bra, panties, and butt-high boots? Judging by his heavily hooded eyes, he didn’t mind. They strayed to the mirror behind her. The blue had left his eyes. Only darkest black remained. Knowing exactly what he was looking at, that she was nearly stripped naked and he approved, created another firestorm of wanton need.
With no patience left for any more foreplay, she latched her fingers to the sides of his head and poured her heart and soul into her kiss. Gripping her backside, he pulled her off the floor and onto his hips. With the sure, swift strides of a man who knew what he wanted and where he was going, he carried her out of the bathroom and down the hall into her bedroom.
Talking was done. Finally!
Twenty-Six
Afterglow is such a beautiful word.
Rory sighed as he covered his gorgeous lady with her zany pink, black, and lime-green patchwork quilt, pulling the soft, warm blanket up to her chin. Ember lay exhausted and very satisfied in his arms, her back to his chest. He was tired, too, but profoundly content.
They’d barely made it to her bed before the passion they’d both been holding back during the operation burst out with a life of its own. He honestly didn’t know how her bra made it all the way up to the framed picture of Paris on the wall, now hanging askew on its hook with the lacy embellishment draped at one corner.
Rory (In the Company of Snipers Book 6) Page 29
