Heartbreaker (The Warriors)

by Laura Taylor

  Bliss felt her senses sparkle with response to his masculinity. Simply looking at Micah, she realized, reinforced the attraction that continued to simmer inside her. She nearly groaned, realizing the arousal he inspired in her had become far too pronounced to dismiss.

  She finally summoned the effort required to shift beyond her reaction to Micah. She abandoned the bluff and made her way across the beach, alert to the security personnel hovering nearby. With every step she took, Bliss reminded herself that helping Micah to adjust needed to be her first priority. She must ignore the emotional war taking place in her heart, not to mention the desire she felt every time she looked at him or thought about him.

  "You’ve discovered my favorite stretch of beach," she announced so he wouldn’t be caught off guard by her presence. "The sand is as fine–grained as sugar and almost as white."

  Micah turned abruptly, missteped, and then steadied himself with the walking stick.

  "I didn’t mean to startle you."

  "You didn’t," he insisted.

  Bliss knew he was lying. She instantly regretted disturbing him, because she realized that the last thing he needed to feel was disorientation. Courage, she knew, could be fragile, especially in the early stages of rediscovering one’s place in the world.

  She watched the muscles in his body ripple with tension, saw him lift his chin the way he always did when he felt threatened or defensive. Bliss moved to within a few feet of him, but she quelled the urge to reach out to him even though her fingertips tingled with the need to touch him, to feel the warmth of his skin, to stroke the muscled power of his body.

  "Have you been out here long?"

  "Long enough."

  "I missed you at lunch. Weren’t you hungry?"

  He shrugged, turning his head away from her. Gulls screeched overhead, and a cruise ship in the distance announced its impending arrival at the Charlotte Amalie Harbor with a succession of horn blasts.

  "What’s wrong, Micah?"

  He stiffened, prompting Bliss to wonder if he felt uncertain about making his way back to the mansion on his own. She impulsively took his free hand and laced their fingers together. She needed to touch him, however impersonal or brief the contact. She savored the strength of his fingers and the warmth of his skin as he clasped her hand. Sensations she fought to ignore sizzled in her veins, but she managed to keep her voice even as she suggested, "Why don’t we walk together?"

  Instead of agreeing to her suggestion, or stepping forward, Micah startled her by turning toward her. He adjusted his stance, tossed aside the walking stick, and seized her hips. Finding herself parked between his powerful thighs, Bliss flattened her hands against his chest.

  "How much longer are you going to keep this up?" he taunted her.

  Bewildered, she frowned. "I don’t understand."

  "Don’t you?" he demanded.

  Bliss paled. He obviously realized how much she wanted him. She felt unsettled by his discovery of her attraction to him, as well as unnerved by the seductive feel of his hands curved over her hips. "No, I don’t understand," she insisted.

  Even though she craved his touch, she normally found the strength of will to sidestep the temptation he presented. How long, she wondered, could she resist the heady desire and sensual curiosity coursing through her mind and body? She sensed that Micah would be extraordinary as a lover, but what of the risk of being used and then abandoned? She tensed as she stood before him.

  "Don’t freeze up on me," he said, his voice so low that she strained to hear his words.

  "Then don’t behave this way."

  "I’ve wanted to do this for days." Those muttered words preceded his actions. He gathered her into the golden heat of his body and lowered his head.

  "Micah…"

  The sun disappeared. Alarm bells clanged in her head. Bliss felt disoriented, as though the world had tilted to an odd angle without any warning. She also felt every muscular inch of his imposing frame and every breath he took as he molded her against his body.

  She began again. "We…"

  He grazed her lips with his own, stilling her protest as he brushed against her sensitive skin. She felt his tongue dart out to trace her lower lip. Stunned by his tender assault, she went very still.

  "Micah," she whispered, but her own voice contained disbelief, not warning.

  He silenced her once more with amazing ease by shifting her hips forward to nestle against the hard length of his sex.

  Bliss trembled, but she couldn’t seem to move away from him—she didn’t really want to move away from him. She felt his hands glide up to her waist. She knew she should flee, but she didn’t.

  He spanned her narrow waist with his fingertips, and then he trailed them up her back as he simultaneously traced the seam of her lips with the tip of his tongue. She sighed, her breath mingling with his as her good intentions and resistance ebbed.

  Cradling her head between his hands, Micah delved past her parted lips, his intrusion sending shock waves through her. Bliss moaned, the sound an unwitting invitation. Angling his mouth, Micah slanted his lips over hers and claimed the seductive heat that lay beyond. Skill and tenderness dominated his sensual foray, and Bliss knew she was on the verge of giving him anything he wanted.

  "So sweet," he murmured against her lips.

  Bliss felt her senses explode. Her wits scattered like debris strewn about by a violent wind, and she gave up the fight.

  She sank into Micah’s kiss, parting her lips and opening herself to his seductive exploration like a flower embracing the glow of the sun. She welcomed every erotic stroke of his tongue as it dipped repeatedly into the depths of her mouth, just as she relished the possessive feel of his hands when he slid them down over her shoulders to her back in order to gather her even closer.

  Bliss vaguely wondered if he could taste her hunger. She tasted his. And she would remember the hot, spicy flavor for as long as she lived. But then she tasted something more, something that hinted at darkness and danger when he deepened his search of her secrets.

  Bliss sensed the change in him the instant it began, just as she felt it in the almost desperate way in which he plundered her mouth, his tongue thrusting and dipping ever more forcefully, his teeth nipping at her lips. She tensed when he gripped her shoulders. His fingers dug into her. He held her so tightly, she felt overpowered by his strength. When she heard him groan, she knew she needed to stop him.

  She wrenched free.

  Micah didn’t attempt to stop her. He simply fought for control. All she heard for several minutes was the mingled sound of their harsh breathing. Bliss finally opened her eyes and risked a glance at his face. In the tension etched into his features, she glimpsed his full awareness of what had just happened, as well as his regret that she’d pulled away from him.

  "We can’t…"

  "You’re wrong." Anger and frustration sharpened his voice. "We can. I need you."

  She shuddered, not with desire but with sadness. "You don’t need me. You need any woman who’ll have you right now, because all you want to do is forget for a little while. Please…" Her voice cracked, and she fell silent.

  Grappling with her emotions and fighting tears, Bliss turned to stare out across the aquamarine waves that swelled and dipped all the way to the horizon. She shivered despite the sultry air buffeting her body and the currents of nearly scalding heat that surged through her bloodstream.

  "Please, what?" he demanded.

  "Please don’t do this to me. Even though I care about you, it’s a bad idea." Bliss bent down, retrieved the walking stick, and placed it in his right hand. "I need to get back to the house."

  "Why is it a bad idea?"

  "It just is."

  He swore, the word coarse enough to make her flinch, then extended the walking stick in front of him with practiced ease and started up the beach.

  "Wait, Micah." She followed after him, relived when he finally paused on the bluff. Grateful that the security personnel that patro
lled the estate continued to keep their distance, Bliss felt compelled to be honest with him. "Making love means a commitment to me. I can’t be casual about it."

  He exhaled and shoved his fingers through an unruly lock of hair that had fallen across his forehead. "I don’t feel casual, Bliss. I’ve never felt less casual in my entire life."

  She moved closer, but then she hesitated. All she really wanted to do was walk back into his arms. "I thought I might take a drive. Would you like to come with me? It might help us both relax." Even she heard how feeble her suggestion sounded.

  "Forget it."

  "Then I’ll walk back to the house with you." Worry shone in her eyes as she studied him.

  He shrugged, but the arousal of his body and the tension tightening every muscle made the deliberately nonchalant gesture appear ridiculous. "Suit yourself."

  Shoulders squared, body aching with need, and spine rigid, Micah silently navigated the stretch of lawn that separated the beach from the mansion. Although acutely aware of Bliss’s presence at his side, he forced himself beyond the erotic images playing through his mind and concentrated on each step he took. He throbbed with need, and his blood simmered, but his pride was alive and well. He didn’t intend to humiliate himself by tripping and falling at her feet.

  As he walked, Micah couldn’t erase his memory of the feel of Bliss in his arms or the answering burst of passion in her response to him, but neither could he ignore his conscience. She thought he wanted nothing but a quick tumble. She was wrong. My God, she couldn’t have been more wrong.

  In his heart of hearts Micah wanted far more from her than sex, although he felt reluctant to admit that she’d aroused his deepest emotions as well as his body. She’d brought to life longings from the past that would put an end to the isolation necessitated by his profession, longings he’d set aside as foolish and irresponsible many years earlier. And he’d paid for that long–ago decision. He’d paid in spades.

  Bliss Rowland fascinated him with her strength of purpose, and she tantalized him with her gentleness and compassion. She’d also just made him achingly aware of her deeply sensual nature. He wanted more of that secret half of herself that she rarely revealed. Much, much more. Hell, he wanted everything she had to offer.

  She perplexed him, too, because he couldn’t get a fix on her emotions. She seemed aloof at times and then intensely complex at others. He’d deliberately kept his distance from her in recent days, not only because he felt so uneasy about the prospect of facing life as a blind man, but also in an effort to hold his physical desire and emotional hunger at bay. The thought of becoming dependent on Bliss—or anyone—still possessed the power to unnerve him.

  He wished they had met under different circumstances, since his rational mind told him that a love affair at this point in his life would be disastrous. Neither did he want to use her. Bliss Rowland was the kind of woman who deserved devotion and sensitivity, qualities he had in short supply right now.

  Micah exhaled harshly, the hunger in him expanding instead of retreating as they neared the mansion’s patio. Her taste lingered on his lips, just as the heat of her skin and ripeness of her hourglass–shaped body still dominated his sensory memory.

  He almost resented her for the desire she unknowingly inspired in him, even though it also made him feel more alive than he’d felt in years. Suddenly too frustrated to maintain such rigid control over himself, he purposely veered into her path. He felt her loss of balance when her hand brushed against his hip. Grabbing her, he took the final steps to the sheltered patio with Bliss tucked against his side.

  "Talk about not paying attention. I’m sorry…"

  He cut her off, his instincts those of a vital male—a sighted male—as he brought her against his body and claimed her parted lips. He needed her, and that was all the justification he could think of for his impulsive behavior.

  He drank in the startled sound she made, savored the feel of her hands as she gripped his waist in order to steady herself, and said a silent prayer that she wouldn’t feel the need to jerk free of him again. He staked his claim, without desperation this time and with the intent of sending a clear message. He wanted her. He did not want to use her. He wanted to experience and to savor her.

  Micah knew he lacked his customary finesse as he sipped at her with the possessiveness of a long–time lover who knew his mission. He didn’t care. He trusted his instincts—the way in which Bliss had forced him to trust them—as he assaulted her senses and drank in her essence. The hot sweetness of her burst across the interior landscape of his starved emotions like a series of perfectly timed detonations.

  He felt her hands slide around his waist, then the pressure of her slender fingers as she held on to him. Micah felt overwhelmed, combustible, on the verge of being incinerated by the fever raging in his mind and body. He struggled to tame his response to Bliss, because he feared frightening her into another withdrawal. He lifted his head, dragging air into his lungs. His hands shook as he smoothed them up and down her arms. And all the while, he prayed that she wouldn’t walk away from him.

  "Touching you is like touching fire," he whispered when he found his voice and the strength to speak.

  Pressing his lips to her temple, he inhaled the seductive scent of her skin and hair before he trailed his hands down her narrow back. He felt the tremor that moved through her like a slow, sensual serenade on a warm summer night. The press of her thighs, the cradle of her femininity, the soft swell of her stomach, and her high, full breasts made a heated imprint against his body. He shuddered, physical need and a thousand and one emotions splintering within his heart.

  Paying close attention to her with all of his senses, Micah shifted his hands forward and skimmed his fingertips over her uptilted breasts. He nearly groaned at the perfection beneath his hands. "No bra," he muttered.

  "No bra," she echoed in a stunned little voice.

  He cupped her breasts, measuring their weight with gentle hands. "Why not?"

  She sighed, the sound ragged and very sexy. "I hate feeling confined. I’m not that big, anyway."

  He covered her with his hands. He felt her nipples harden and stab into his palms. Desire spiked to new heights within his body, and regret suffused him that they were both still clothed and not stretched out atop a comfortable bed.

  "You're just right," he said. "I want to put my mouth on you. I want to taste every inch of you, and then I want to do it again."

  Bliss shivered, but she didn’t speak.

  "You want me."

  His words sounded like an accusation to her. "I can’t let myself want you."

  "But you do."

  She shook her head, and then she moaned softly when his hands tightened over her firm breasts. "This is crazy," she gasped. "We can’t indulge in this kind of behavior."

  Micah decided to prove her wrong. He gently flicked his thumbs over her nipples, her light cotton shirt a meaningless barrier even though it protected her from prying eyes. Her body responded in a heartbeat. Micah saw no reason to restate the obvious. He simply waited.

  "You aren’t being fair to either one of us," she whispered, her voice ragged.

  "Life’s not fair. Besides, you want me. I can feel how much you want me."

  "I’m more than body parts. I’m a person with feelings and needs beyond the physical."

  "I don’t want to be fair, Bliss." He lowered his head and sampled the taste of her lips once more. When he paused, he drew her close and held her with a tenderness that felt vaguely foreign to him. "Don’t ask me to be fair. I don’t know how to be fair right now."

  She went very still.

  Micah got the impression she’d all but stopped breathing. "Tell me what you’re thinking," he urged.

  "Are you finished?"

  Her voice, so deathly calm, sounded as though it belonged to a stranger. Baffled, he brought his hands up to her face and skimmed her features with his fingertips. She might as well have been cast in a stone for all the expressi
on he found there.

  Bliss pulled free of him without warning and tugged her shirt into place. "Stop this, Micah. I refuse to be treated like a slut."

  Her temper and her words shocked him. He knew she could be stubborn, but he felt ill prepared to deal with the genuine anger he heard in her voice. His own temper sparked to life. "I guess your pity for the blind man doesn’t extend to his bedroom."

  "I do not pity you, and I never will."

  "Right," he muttered, his tone scathing.

  His desire dwindled, but it didn’t burn out. Would it ever? No, damn her, it would not. He wanted her too badly, and he knew his attire did nothing to conceal his aroused body. At that moment, he didn’t care.

  Micah wanted her to see her effect on him, even if he couldn’t see her swollen breasts. Her nipples had to be the palest coral, he decided as he stood there, his expression dangerous and his fists clenched at his sides.

  "I don’t like one–night stands, and that’s all you're offering me. I’m worth much more."

  "You wanted me." When she didn’t respond, he reminded her, "I tasted your hunger, and I felt your heat. You’re on fire for me, and you know it. What just happened between us was not one–sided," he declared.

  "Yes, I want you, but I’m not part of your vacation package, so get that idea right out of your head."

  Shocked by her unexpected words, he frowned.

  "Don’t look so damned surprised," she chastised. "I’m not so stupid as to deny that you’re capable of arousing me physically. Of course, I want you. I’d have to be dead and buried not to want you, but there’s something I definitely do not want, and that’s your state of mind. It’s negative, so kindly keep it and your hands to yourself."

  "Then change it," he challenged. "Change my negative attitude, since it bothers you so much."

  "That’s your job, not mine," she shot back. "All I can do is provide you with the tools. The rest is up to you."

  He knew she was right, even though it irked him to admit it to himself. He heard the sound of her footsteps as she crossed the patio. "Bliss, I’m…" The words he wanted to say were stuck in his throat by the time she paused on the threshold of her suite. "Oh, hell, just forget it."