by Rachel Lee
Then, inexplicably, a happy laugh escaped her. “Can’t take it?”
“I’m about to erupt.”
So was she. She could feel it coming, building, like the hum of a generator ramping up. Want, need, passion were becoming a storm inside her. Dally later, she thought with the last bit of her brain, and bending, she tugged his sweatpants and undershorts down until he could step out of them.
Then the world froze again for one crackling moment while she drank him in. Every line of him struck her as perfect, the long, leanly muscled legs of a runner, the chest and arms of a man with strength. Even his injured right arm remained strong, as if he had kept working it through all the pain.
And his erection. A thing of male beauty, stiff and proud. She dropped to her knees and ran her tongue over him, then cupped his testicles in her palm.
A groan escaped Trace, then with surprising strength, heedless of the pain it must have cost him, he pulled her up and pushed her back. “Witch! It’ll be all over before it starts. And don’t you dare laugh.”
But she did, and watched a grin start to spread over his face. How had she ever thought him ordinary?
“Strip,” he said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to demand.
She guessed it was at this point. She wasted no time pulling off her sweat suit and underclothes, figuring from the sound of him that he’d about reached his limit. Next time she’d tease him more. Next time...
But next time vanished as he urged her onto the bed. “Damn. Condom.”
She waved to the bedside table. “A kindergarten teacher is prepared for everything,” she said, listening to her voice crack with eagerness. She wanted him in her and on her right now. No more dallying. She almost hated that condom, but pushed herself up enough to help him with it.
“Sexy,” he muttered, then he fell onto the bed beside her, propped himself on his elbow, and began to drag his good hand over her, finding every hill and hollow, teasing her nipples to eager, exquisitely sensitive nubs. But it was amazing how quickly her patience died. Not now. Now she just wanted culmination the fastest way she could get it, as if this moment had been building in her forever.
As if she had been waiting for this man forever, like some Sleeping Beauty who was now only discovering that she had never been truly awake before.
“Trace, please...”
* * *
So that’s how she wanted it. Delight exploded in him. No finessing lover, just hard, quick and right now. Holding himself back had been almost impossible from the moment he’d given in to her, but now he simply wanted to bury himself deep within her. Raw, as she’d said. Basic. Need. Now, while there was still time.
The urge for life, to live, had been growing in him. After all the years of thinking of himself as expendable, he no longer wanted to be that way. He wanted to taste the mysteries, the fruits, the joys of life, lived to the fullest without being on an adrenaline edge.
He wanted the fantastic normalcy of making love to this woman, of sharing the ultimate pleasure with her. Of carrying another person with him to the greatest peak a human could reach.
But he paused just a little longer, filling himself with the beauty of her lying there. Even in the dim light he could see how superbly she was formed. Breasts, just the right size, begged to be kissed and touched. Large nipples seemed to reach for his mouth, erect and ready for his tongue and teeth. Her waist tapered down to hips that flared invitingly, a cradle to hold a man. Auburn hair grew thickly at the apex of her thighs, a nest concealing her most sensitive places. Below, her legs might have been created for a dancer, exquisitely formed with pretty knees, tiny ankles, and feet that could not have been shaped any better.
There would be time to adore all that later, he promised himself. But the hammering of passion pushed him, so strong now that he was barely aware of the pain that still pounded him.
Then she raised a hand, gripping his shoulder until her nails dug in a bit. The message was clear as she parted her legs, giving him the oldest of all invitations.
Her body begged for him, and his cried out, Now!
Propping himself on his elbow, he slid over her. At once her legs rose to lock around his hips and draw him in. Electric shocks ripped through him, driving everything else far away as he slid into her. She was damp already, and so, so warm. He felt her clench her muscles around him, pulsing in an ancient rhythm that drove him to the edge of madness.
Lowering his head, propped on his elbows, he found one of her nipples, drawing it into his mouth and sucking on it in time with the pumping of his body. The universe had shrunk to their points of contact, yet expanded so much he felt he encompassed all life with his hunger and passion.
Pressure inside him built. He lifted his head, gritting his teeth to hang on just a little longer. He wanted her with him in that perfect instant of complete union. Images of her body floated through his mind, driving him harder and harder. Feeling her arms close around him as her legs had brought them so close he could no longer tell they were separate beings.
The tempest swept him along as if he were a leaf, carrying him where it would, but always higher and higher until he felt as if he were nothing but a huge ache, the prisoner of its winds.
Then he heard her cry out, felt the paroxysm take her body, stiffening her. Only then did he give in to the consuming storm, finding release and peace all at once, an explosion that deafened him and blinded him, then left him feeling as if he floated in the darkness of space among an infinity of stars.
* * *
Julie didn’t want to let it end. Lying beneath Trace’s damp body, she had found a place she had dreamed of but had never quite reached before. After a sundering lance of pleasure so strong it almost hurt, she had found a gently throbbing peace, a complete relaxation, a sense of repletion she wished she could hang on to forever.
Trace curled beside her, lying on his good side, his painful hand across her middle. He seemed to have melted as much as she had, everything about him soft and still. He might have fallen asleep.
But soon she felt him press a light kiss to her shoulder. Then a momentary spear of guilt struck her. “Are you okay?” She had forgotten his hand and how much pain he suffered.
“Never better,” he said, sounding a bit hoarse. “You? It wasn’t too raw?”
“I think,” she whispered, “I have become crazy about raw.”
A quiet, short laugh escaped him. “I think I was beyond anything else.”
“Me, too. That was...that was incredible.”
Another kiss followed the first on her shoulder, but then she felt him stir a bit, and he no longer felt quite so relaxed.
“Pain?” she asked immediately.
“Sorry. I somehow managed to forget all about it, but...”
At once she pushed the covers away. When had they pulled them up? She couldn’t even remember. She remembered very little, actually, that didn’t have to do with what her body had been feeling and experiencing. Wow.
“Let’s get you a pill,” she said, much as she didn’t want to move. “I’m not going to relax any better than you if I keep thinking of your poor hand being hammered by a blacksmith.”
Refusing to give in to her own desire to just savor the experience, she pushed herself upright and hunted up her sweats. “Coffee, too?”
“If you want me awake for a little while to tell you how fantastic you are.”
“I can always handle a bit of that,” she answered lightly. She found her sweat suit, skipped her underthings, and quickly put on her slippers. She left Trace to manage for himself because she suspected that at this point he might not like being cared for. Right now a ding to his ego could be awful.
Nor did he deserve one. In the kitchen, she gripped the edge of the counter and closed her eyes, letting lingering aftershocks roll through her. She
thought she’d been well-loved before, but this had gone far beyond that. She didn’t even want to think about why, just to hang on to it as long as she could. Life had just delivered her a miraculous experience. All she could do was hope that another might come her way, and feel grateful for what she had just known.
At last, reminding herself that Trace had to be hurting pretty badly and that he wouldn’t take his pain meds without coffee to keep his head clear, she started the pot going. It seemed too late at night for espresso, but she’d ask him if he wanted one.
It took him a while to emerge from the bedroom, and when he did she saw that awful sheen of perspiration on his forehead again. Pain. Lots and lots of it. He gave her a faint smile as he entered the living room, then immediately picked up the bottle of meds from the coffee table where he’d left it. She watched him work the cap loose, then bit her lip as she saw him pour two into his gloved hand. Two? She hated to think what he must be suffering since he usually avoided taking more than one.
“That isn’t too much?” she asked.
“It might barely be enough.”
At once her heart and stomach tumbled. “I’m sorry, Trace. I should never...”
“Don’t say it,” he interrupted. “Please don’t say it. No amount of pain could have made me miss that experience with you.”
Her heart lifted and she was able to smile at him. He popped the pills dry, then sipped at the hot mug of coffee she handed him.
He settled on the couch and extended his right arm in invitation. She curled up beside him and rested her head in the hollow of his shoulder. His arm lay comfortably heavy on her shoulders, but his hand didn’t caress her at all. She hoped the pills worked soon.
He spoke. “I’m so glad I met you.”
That lifted her heart even more. He’d been constantly apologizing for dragging her into this, frequently suggesting he should just leave, but now, at least for now, he was simply glad to be with her. “I’ve been difficult,” she admitted.
“No, really you haven’t. This is such a mess, and I can certainly understand your frustration with knowing so little. I haven’t been much help, staring off into space and pacing, traveling mental pathways I simply can’t share with anyone.”
“Are they getting you anywhere?”
“Maybe.” He shifted a little. “Right now, I’d rather talk about you. About that storm outside. About anything else.”
“I forgot about the storm,” she admitted.
“Me, too.” He gave a little laugh. “Somehow it was easy to forget what was going on outside.” He set his coffee down and reached for her hand, raising it to his lips to kiss. “You could make a man forget everything.”
She snuggled a little closer. “That might not be good.”
“At the moment, I think it’s just fine.” He released her hand and reached for his coffee, downing half of it.
“Should I have made you espresso?”
“No, this is fine. I may drink the whole pot by myself, though. I hate the way these pills cloud my mind.”
“Are you sure it’s your mind you need right now?”
He laughed and gave her a little squeeze. “I will, very shortly. Sorry.”
Then, in a horrifying moment that froze both of them, there was a knock on the door. Given the hour, she didn’t even want to look out the peephole. Straightening, she looked at Trace. He nodded toward the door, but she noticed when he followed her, he stood right behind it where he couldn’t be seen. Everything about him said he was ready for an attack.
She didn’t blame him. Ryker hadn’t called, so it couldn’t be him. Shaking now, she peered out and saw a man standing back from the door. As he turned, she recognized him.
“Thank God,” she whispered, then wondered what was going on. Micah Parish, long a deputy in this county, had no reason to be standing at her door in the middle of the night.
She quickly worked the latch and opened it. The storm still raged outside. “Micah?”
“Sorry to scare you,” he said. “Gage sent me over.”
“Did something happen?” she asked as she let him in.
“Not yet. But Gage has been gnawing on the problem and wanted to offer some reassurance.”
Once inside, he shucked his jacket. Julie thought he still looked almost like the man who had arrived in this county more than two decades ago, except for some gray streaks in his long inky hair. His Cherokee ancestry was stamped clearly on his face, and had caused him to meet a little initial resistance when he arrived here.
He accepted an offer of coffee, then introduced himself to Trace who, she noticed, offered only his first name. Micah didn’t seem troubled by it.
“So what’s going on?” Julie asked as they settled in the living room, Trace on a chair, Julie at her desk, and Micah on the couch.
“I wish something was going on,” Micah answered. “It always helps to have some kind of movement to let you know where to look. Right now we’re in a holding pattern partly because of the storm. Travel right now is pretty much restricted to snowplows, and even some of them are getting stuck all over this state and Colorado.”
“Well,” said Trace, “I guess it helps to know nothing is moving.”
“Air traffic pretty much ground to a halt overnight on Friday and it’s still not moving. I pity all the people stuck in airports.” He smiled faintly. “But mostly I’m to let you know...you met Seth, right? Seth Hardin? One of the guys who got rid of your car?”
Trace shifted uneasily. “How many people know what’s going on?”
Micah’s smile broadened. “Let’s just say there are a group of us in this county who’ve had some experience in classified missions. Highly classified missions. Seth’s one of them, and so am I. We know how to keep our yaps shut. Anyway, Gage has been worrying about the problem, and in the process drew some of us in on it. We’re keeping a watchful eye that’s going to get even more watchful as the ability to travel returns. We’ve got an eye on Ryker’s family, and now we’ve got one on you. You won’t know we’re around.”
Julie instinctively looked toward the window, even though she knew she couldn’t see through the curtains. “How long?” she asked.
“Can’t say for sure, but according to the latest forecasts the worst should be moving out late tomorrow. The airports are hoping to start moving again tomorrow afternoon. Then the roads. So not long.”
“But everyone believes Trace is in Denver.”
“But for how long?” Micah asked rhetorically. “Anyway, you’re not sitting here alone, much as it may seem so. And the sheriff sent a present for you.” He stood and pulled what looked like a black brick off his belt, handing it to Trace. “I’m sure you know how to use a satellite phone.”
“I sure do,” Trace said, accepting it.
“It’s working now,” Micah said, “but it’ll work even better after this storm blows through. It’s set up so the instant you key it, you’ll be in touch with our group. If you need more help, dial two-one-one. That’ll reach everyone in the department.”
“You realize I don’t know my way around here.”
Micah nodded. “That radio has GPS on it. You won’t even have to report your location.”
Trace studied the radio a moment, then said quietly, “I can’t tell you how much it means to know I have backup.”
“I reckon I already know. Well, hell, any of us who’ve ever gone on a covert op has a pretty good idea of what it feels like in your shoes. No backup, no one willing to claim you if things go sour...no, we get it. And that’s the reason you’re not going to be alone unless you want to be.” Then he smiled at Julie. “You, either. Mind if I have some more of that coffee?”
She went to refill his mug while a strange silence settled over the apartment. Something was happening at a level she didn’t fully understand, but
she could almost feel the strands of an alliance forming right now.
For her part, she was glad to know friends were keeping an eye on Ryker, Marisa and the baby. From the start her biggest concern had been her best friend and her family, but Trace had risen to a position right alongside them.
“I’ll be fine,” she told Micah as she gave him his coffee and refreshed Trace’s cup from the pot. He smiled his gratitude to her, but his eyes seemed to say more. Once again she felt the drizzle of desire running through her. A ridiculous case of bad timing, she thought wryly.
And how unusual that a simple look from him could affect her that way. With effort, she dragged herself back to the matters at hand. Life and death were far more important. She shouldn’t even need to remind herself of that.
Carrying the pot back to the kitchen to place it on the warmer, she kept her ears open, waiting to hear something. Anything.
She guessed pieces she couldn’t imagine were beginning to click into place. Pieces of protection? Understanding?
“You know,” Trace said slowly, “it occurs to me that they may already be backtracking me.”
Julie stiffened. “But...” She remembered clearly that they had ditched his car, making it look like an accident, that Ryker had sent his phone on to Denver. Surely no one...
“We were wondering that,” Micah drawled. “Hence the satellite phone in the middle of the night. Ryker’s been getting increasingly antsy, along with Gage, and while neither of them has likely shared that with you, they’re not so sure anyone fell for the diversion. At least not for long.”
Pills or no pills, Trace was suddenly on his feet, pacing. “Yeah. It’s an obvious diversion, the kind of thing I’m capable of pulling off without trouble. And after I got Ryker’s address...” He stopped suddenly and faced Micah. “You make sure that man and his family are well-covered. I had no idea when I got here what was going on, but now that I know I’m not betting he’s safe.”
“Neither are we,” Micah said. “Neither are we. This was your last known location. They may interpret the rest as an evasion. We can’t afford to overlook the possibility.”
